


Stay-at-Home Vampire

by fafnyrd



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bi main character, Bitter acquaintances to lovers, Brief Male/Female Relationship, Gay vampire romance, Human/Vampire Relationship, Literally only in the first chapter, M/M, Modern Era, Multi, Murder Mystery, POV Alternating, Paranormal Criminal Investigators, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Vampires, gay main character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2020-10-27 21:18:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20767112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fafnyrd/pseuds/fafnyrd
Summary: Balrigard Toule is a two-hundred-something year old vampire who hasn't been on a date (or updated his wardrobe) in over twenty years. Vesper Haines is a paranormal investigator with a firecracker personality and the driving record to match. When Vesper finds out that Balrigard has information that could help him on his latest investigation, Vesper drags the vampire along. Balrigard is bored enough to let himself be dragged.





	1. Prologue - Artemis

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE 10/15/19: Title change! This used to be 'Are you a vampire?', changing it to 'Stay-at-Home Vampire'
> 
> I've been writing this story on and off for a couple months, have about fourteen chapters so far, and consider it a third of the way done. I've never published my writing online before, but my friend encouraged (ordered) me to, so I'm gunna give it a try. Explicit content will come later, but making it E now just to be safe. More tags will be added as well.  
Please note that my work has not been beta read, so typos and errors are likely.
> 
> Comments are super appreciated! ; w;

Artemis held her tongue for months, trying to come up with some clever way of asking. In the end, she went with the straightforward approach.

“Are you a vampire?”

The man looked at her, his cool, calm demeanor immediately shifting to one of discomfort. His slender, pale fingers drummed anxiously on the hard-back cover of the book that rested on the counter between them. “Ah…” He hesitated, and for a moment Artemis feared he was about to turn and run. She shouldn’t have asked. At least, not so bluntly.

But then, the man seemed to collect himself. He pushed his sunglasses back up the narrow bridge of his nose, and spoke in his somewhat outdated New England accent, “Am I that obvious?”

Artemis smiled with a hint of laughter, and gestured at his getup. Despite the fact that it was dark as pitch outside and a balmy eighty-two degrees, the man was covered head to toe: turtleneck sweater, gardening gloves, windbreakers (in an atrocious 90s color palette, no less), a sun hat with an oversized, sagging brim, dress shoes, and, of course, the shades. He was a fashion nightmare, but if sunlight could reduce him to a pile of ashes in seconds, she would forgive his taste in wardrobe. 

“Oh. I suppose I am a little overdressed,” the man laughed, and Artemis loved the sound of it. _ I knew he’d have a nice laugh. _

“The name was a bit of a giveaway, too.” Artemis slid his library card back to him, her finger resting just above his name. “_ Balrigard. _ I don’t think there’s many people going and naming their children _ Balrigard _in this day and age.”

“Is it that bad?” Balrigard asked, raising an eyebrow and looking a little wounded.

“Not at all! I like it, actually.” She tried to put on her most charming smile, and rested her chin in her hand as she looked up at him, batting her lashes. “Balrigard,” she said again, laying the appreciation on thick. “The cookbook threw me off though.”

“Cookbook?” Balrigard looked down at the book where hand rested, and laughed again. Was he a nervous laugher? _ Adorable! _ “It is a little strange for me, now that you mention it.” Artemis resisted the urge to ask if vampires did anything to improve upon their ‘meals’. Eating, _ drinking _the same thing year after year had to get boring, after all. “I grabbed it in a hurry, since you’re closing soon.”

“Did you come here looking for anything in particular?”

“Not really. I, uh, read through everything else I cared to in the hobby section. So I’m not sure where to go from here.”

“I could give you some recommendations, if you’d like?”

His sunglasses slipped back down his nose, and Artemis admired his honey-brown eyes before he pushed the glasses back into place. “Would you?”

“Maybe over coffee, though? Since, as you said, we’re closing soon.”

“Oh.” He blinked down at her, tongue-tied again. Artemis mentally kicked herself; _coffee? He can’t drink coffee! _She should’ve given that question a few more months’ thought.

Balrigard smiled a cool, frustratingly handsome smile, one she feared would be used to aid him in letting her down gently. Instead, he responded, “I’m afraid coffee doesn’t do much for me, but I’d love to join you regardless.”

Now it was Artemis’s turn to blink up at Balrigard, momentarily stunned. She’d… she’d done it? After over a year of small talk and admiring what few attractive features she could make out from under his ridiculous attire, she’d done it. She’d secured a date with a vampire.

An adolescence spent reading every book within reach meant Artemis had read her share of once-popular, fictional vampire novels (the majority of them romances). They left Artemis wondering what such a relationship would be like. Most vampires were less than a century old, leftovers from the last few wars where countries used vampirism as an experimental weapon. Others were among the lucky few terminally-ill deemed too valuable to society to let go of just yet. And of course, there were those who were turned illegally. As such, very few existing vampires matched up with the ones in the romance novels: vampires who lived in secret for centuries, lured their victims with beauty and antiquated charm, and eventually fell for their victims and turned them into vampires too, so that their romance might endure for all eternity. 

She wasn’t necessarily looking for eternity. But she was curious; Balrigard was handsome (_ and so mysterious! _), and vampires didn’t really eat people these days, so what was the harm in a few dates? 

Artemis felt a little thrill as people watched her and Balrigard take their seats in the dimmest corner of the coffee shop. She waited patiently while Balrigard went through the process of removing his hat, sunglasses, and gloves, delighting in every bit of him being revealed to her. He ran his fingers through his ash-brown curls, reshaping them where the sunhat pressed them flat. When he met her gaze and smiled, her heart soared.

“Miss Haines,” he began after setting aside his gloves.

“You can call me Artemis,” she interrupted eagerly. “Or Art. That’s what my friends call me.”

“Alright. Miss Art, then,” he corrected with another smile. “What books would you recommend?”

She idly trailed a finger along the rim of a saucer. “Well, _ Mr. _Balrigard. That all depends on what you like.”

“I have spent a very long time reading things I like. Now, I think I’d like to try something new.”

In that way, he got Artemis talking about her favorite novels: fantasy, mystery, horror, and romance. She made sure to avoid mentioning the ones involving vampires; she didn’t want to be too obvious. Halfway through, Balrigard pulled an outdated smartphone out of his pocket. “I should be writing these down!” he laughed, and pecked at the screen with his index finger. A few moments passed where he stared at the screen, swiping it from side to side. His brow creased, and he swiped again.

“Is something wrong?” Artemis asked, growing concerned. He looked like he’d just received a very grim text message.

“I’m sorry… I don’t remember how to write on this thing.”

Artemis laughed, which blessedly did not seem to offend him. “Here, give it to me,” she said, and reached for his phone. “It’s this icon right here; you tap it and…”

She handed his phone back to him after writing down the titles she’d mentioned, along with a few others. “I think all but the last two are available right now. I could set some aside for you, if you’d like?”

He promised to return tomorrow and make his pick then. Artemis went home that night with a spring in her step, her heart fluttering, her cheeks sore from smiling so much. Around two a.m., her phone buzzed and jolted her awake. She knocked her glasses off her nightstand in her haste to find her phone, but it was worth it when she saw the text from an unknown number.

**AREntyou clever**

She laughed and sat up, opening her contacts to add his phone number. _ Balriga- _Her phone buzzed again.

**Arent you clever**

She finished typing his name and then set her phone aside. She wouldn’t respond until morning. _ Or late afternoon? Either way, can’t seem too eager. _Another buzz, and she was sitting up again to check her phone.

**Wheres the punctuation**

The next day, Artemis entertained herself while waiting for Balrigard to arrive by going through some of the library’s historical records. The vampire’s information was easy enough to find, but lacking. There were a few mentions of his leaving Boston in the 1930s and returning in 1946. _ He was gone during the second world war, _she thought. He must’ve been relocated to the capitol during that time. She wondered how he felt about it, and what stories he might have on the botched attempt to strengthen the nation’s army with vampire venom. The history minor in her squirmed with delight.

Shortly before closing, Balrigard returned to the library dressed in the same oversized sun hat and windbreaker. He squinted against the glare of the flourescencents overhead as he removed his shades and smiled at her. “Hello again, Miss Art.”

She returned his greeting and patted her hand atop a small stack of hardcovers. “I’ve pulled a few options for you.” He read over the book jackets, then passed her two.

“Thank you. I’ll take these for now, and come back for the others when I’m done.”

Artemis felt a tingle of doubt. Was that it? He was going to take the books and go? She started to recount every word she said last night, and how she’d waited to respond to his text messages and even then only told him how to switch his keyboard. She should’ve replied sooner. She shouldn’t have talked about books so much. She should’ve-

He interrupted her downward spiral into self-doubt, “Maybe when I finish one, we could meet again? To discuss it.” 

_ Thank God. _“Absolutely. How’s Saturday, at nine? Think you could finish by then?”

He laughed and Artemis felt her good mood restored, and then some. It really was a nice laugh. “I’ll likely have it finished by Thursday.”

“A fast reader!” she exclaimed, beaming. “I like that.”

He shrugged, though she saw his gaze briefly brighten. “I have a lot of free time, that’s all.”

She met him as planned, and tried to get the book talk out of the way as quickly as possible. Over the last few days, she’d come up with a thousand questions she wanted to ask him. She _ really _wanted to ask him how old he was, but figured it inappropriate for a second date. However, it seemed Balrigard came equipped with a million questions of his own, and before she knew it, the conversation revolved entirely around her own life.

Balrigard was a good listener; he gave her his full attention, and repeatedly asked her to elaborate. She told him all of her favorite memories, and he would reward her with that wonderful laugh of his and ask after another. By comparison, her life lacked the glamor and excitement that surely came with his ‘condition,’ so she feared boring him. However, he took in every word as if it were the best story he’d heard in years. He listened to her complain about her landlord as if she were reciting an epic.

When she tried to get some of Balrigard’s own history out of him, he somehow expertly diverted the conversation back onto her. _ He’s shy, that’s all. _She couldn’t resist oblidging him, either. Surely after another outing or two, he would be more comfortable discussing himself. In the meantime, she gladly settled for his interest in her. 

For their third date, they went to the movies. Balrigard let her choose, and didn’t seem to mind when she picked a romcom. She hoped he would take the hint, and even worked up the courage to touch her hand to his about halfway through the movie. He didn’t take her hand, but he didn’t pull away from her either, and he smiled kindly at her when she ran her thumb over his knuckles. At the end of the movie, he patted her hand and walked her to her car. No kiss. Only a request for a fourth date. She accepted, of course, but with dampened enthusiasm.

Her disappointment must have been obvious, because at the end of the next date, he took her hand in his and kissed it. The touch of his lips was so light that she would’ve thought he’d not kissed her at all, if not for how cold it felt against her skin. The gesture reminded her of the old vampire novels, and just like that, she was smitten all over again.

She went to the fifth date with the expectation that Balrigard would finally be more open. But instead of answers, he produced only more questions, which she answered somewhat begrudgingly. He asked her about her past vacations. He asked her about her grade-school years. Asked about the community college where she studied psychology and history. Asked about everything she learned, to the point where it felt more like he was helping her review for an exam than having a conversation with her. During it all, she only managed to learn that he never left the state (except during the war, the mention of which made him uncomfortable), studied under a private tutor as a boy sometime in the vague 1800s, and was thrilled that the community college offered night classes. _ I can’t believe I was so afraid of boring _ him _ . _

On date seven, she kissed him full on the lips as he walked her to her car. She tried to wring some passion out of him, winding her fingers into his curls and pulling him down to meet her. It took a moment for him to kiss her back, and when he did, it felt mechanical. And cold. And clammy. Maybe it was a good thing he didn’t initiate a second one. Apparently being alive for two-hundred years did not guarantee one would be a good kisser. Her perception of his attractiveness began to crumble after that. Not even the coordinated outfit she bought for him on date eight did any good. 

Date nine ended disastrously. She met Balrigard at the street corner with a cheery “Hello!” only for him to retreat ten feet away from her, hand clamped over his nose and mouth.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, and looked down at her blouse for an unsightly tomato stain.

“Garlic,” he wheezed, and his eyes were watering.

It took Artemis a moment to remember that she ate garlic bread with her lunch. “What? No. I brushed my teeth, I swear!”

Balrigard shook his head, took another step back, and _ gagged. _ Artemis flushed with embarrassment. She should have known that Balrigard would be more sensitive to it. Recent generations of vampires carried a weaker strain of the virus which made them less susceptible to things like sunlight. The army didn’t want their top soldiers to combust the moment the sun came up. But Balrigard likely bore the original strain, and with it came the full effects: superhuman strength and reflexes, immortality, and severe ‘allergic’ reactions to sunlight, silver, and garlic. _ Good thing I never wore my grandmother’s ring. _

“I’m so sorry,” Balrigard said as he fled. “I’ll text you.”

He did text her, but after only an hour of messaging each other back and forward, she lied and told him she needed to go to bed. Conversations over the phone frustrated her just as much as the ones in person. All questions, no answers. When they met at the coffee shop again, Artemis opted to return to being blunt. “You haven’t told me much about yourself. Why?” 

“When you’ve lived as long as I have, you get a little sick of yourself,” Balrigard laughed, to no effect. 

“I guess,” she mumbled in response as she idly scrolled through her phone. “I mean, I can relate. I’m pretty bored of talking about myself, too.”

“Well, I think you’re very interesting!”

Artemis looked up from her phone, skeptical. There was something about the way he said it that seemed off. “How so?”

“You’re so very modern.”

Artemis flinched, but managed to force a smile. Realization crept upon her, and with it, dread. 

“Thank you,” she lied. “But can I _ please _ ask _ you _ a question? It’s only fair.”

Balrigard hesitantly nodded his consent.

On their first date, she wanted to ask him what being a vampire was like, how old he was, anything about the war. But now she asked, “When’s the last time you dated someone?”

Balrigard pursed his lips. “Hmm…” _ Not a good sign. _“2016 minus-”

“2018.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s 2018.” _ Definitely not a good sign. _

“Oh. Well then..” He closed his eyes as he did the math. “Twenty seven.”

“Months?” _ Please say months. _

He laughed again. “Years.”

_ Back when his windbreaker was in style. _

She knew her main reason for wanting to date Balrigard was shallow. But now it seemed his reason for accepting was no better.

She wanted a passionate, Victorian romance. Balrigard wanted someone who could show him how to use the internet.

After another twenty or so lackluster minutes, Artemis excused herself for the evening. She knew she needed to break it off, but not tonight. She couldn’t bring herself to ruin his good mood after she showed him how to install filters on his phone that would distort his face or give him a dog tongue every time he opened his mouth. 

_ Tomorrow, _ she vowed. _ I’ll tell him tomorrow. _

She spent the next day trying to figure out how to let him down gently, but no good ideas came. Blunt would have to do; blunt got her into this, and blunt would get her out. She met him outside the library after closing, and tried to smile sweetly up at him when he called out to her and approached.

“You look nice,” Balrigard said, greeting her only with a slight incline of his head.

“Thank you,” she said. She wished she could return the sentiment, but tonight he was wearing a poncho and rain boots despite the clear sky above, and that same damn sunhat. So much for the fashion advice.

“What would you like to do tonight?” Balrigard asked her. If he’d taken any notice of her less than enthusiastic mood, he didn’t show it.

_ This is it, Art. You can do this. You can dump a vampire. _“I was thinking we might go for a walk.”

Balrigard considered the sky and pulled the brim of his hat down, as if the sun might suddenly spring up from the horizon nine hours ahead of schedule. “Sounds good.” He extended his arm out to her. “Shall we?”

She hung her hand in the crook of his elbow, acutely aware of the brim of the sunhat tapping her on the head every time Balrigard took a step. People eyed them as they passed by, snickering at Balrigard’s appearance. At _ Artemis, _draped on his arm, clearly unhappy. She flushed with embarrassment.

“Are you alright?” Balrigard asked, pausing as they came to the edge of the park.

“O-oh, of course.” She should have said no. “Why do you ask?”

“Your heart is very loud tonight.”

“Oh.” _ Oh God. That’s not romantic at all. _“Actually, I-” 

Before she could come clean, her phone began to blare 80s rock from her back pocket.

“What is _ that?” _Balrigard asked, wrinkling his nose and smiling wryly. “Is that supposed to be music?”

_ Shut up. _“It’s my brother.” She hung up the phone without answering. “I’ll call him later. Now, uh, I wanted to tell you that-” The phone rang again. “Damn it! Hold on. I’ve got to take this, I guess.”

She stepped away from Balrigard as she swiped her thumb across the screen and brought the phone up to her ear. “What, Vesp? I’m kinda busy.”

“Do you still have the blueprints for Morel Theatre at the library?” Vesper asked, as usual not bothering with a greeting.

“The Mor… I mean, I guess? If they were there before, they’re still there. We don’t lend those out to anyon-”

“Great, I’ll be over in just a minute to take a look.”

Artemis wanted to pull her hair out. “What? No, Vesper, I already closed. And I’m busy. Come in the mornin-”

“Can’t, Arty. Work related; see you in a sec.”

He hung up, but Artemis still shouted “Asshole!” into the receiver before shoving the phone back in her pocket.


	2. Chapter One - Balrigard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting one more chapter. I'll post others as the days go by!

Balrigard gave a feeble smile. “Y-your brother, was it?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, but we’ve got to go back to the library. He needs something from the record room.”

“The Morel Theatre,” Balrigard repeated, having overheard from where he stood a few yards away. “What’s he want with that place? It’s condemned.”

Artemis threw her arms up in defeat. “I don’t know, but I’m sure it’s something reckless. Come on; we can talk later.” 

Balrigard followed obediently. “Never a dull moment with you,” he said, hoping the compliment would help dampen her frustration, but she only shook her head and quickened her pace. 

An old, beat up Eagle sat parked diagonally through a handicap spot in front of the library. A man detached himself from the driver-side door and waved. “Evening, Art!” the man who must have been Vesper called out. “And… Art’s friend, I presume?”

Balrigard nodded, and extended a hand. “Balrigard Toule.”

Vesper stood five or so inches shorter than Balrigard, and made up in muscle what he lacked in stature. He was handsome like his sister, with short, wild, black hair disheveled from driving with the window down, though his beard remained immaculately groomed. He stank of leather and a mild aftershave, and something Balrigard told himself was worse. Balrigard resisted the urge to pull his hand back as Vesper reached out and shook it.

“Vesper Haines, Art’s brother. Hope I’m not interrupting.”

“You are,” Artemis grumbled as she fished her keys from her purse. “So let’s get this over with.”

“Great!” Vesper beamed and made for the front door, but not before smirking back at Balrigard over his shoulder and adding, “Nice hat. And… sunglasses.”

“You owe me,” Artemis said, unlocking the door. Vesper barged ahead, shouldering open the door and making a beeline for the record room. “He’s such a pain,” Artemis hissed under her breath. Balrigard wasn’t sure if he was meant to hear it, so he said nothing.

Artemis followed Vesper. When Balrigard remained by the front counter, she waved for him to follow. “Might as well help him find what he’s looking for.”

They found Vesper in the record room, yanking open filing cabinet drawers, thumbing through folders, and then slamming the drawers shut. “They’re not in there,” Artemis groaned, and crossed the room to a series of wide, beige, metal drawers. “When was it built?”

Vesper shrugged. “No idea. It’s at least a hundred or so-”

“1823.”

Vesper and Artemis both turned to look at Balrigard, and he quickly looked down and fussed with his gloves. “Construction was finished in 1823, but the plans were drafted in 1819.”

Artemis frowned at him, which didn’t make much sense, since he was being helpful. “How do you-”

“Wonderful, thanks,” Vesper interrupted, and bumped his sister aside with his hip as he slid up to the drawer next to her and began digging through a bunch of poster tubes.

“Vesper, those are organized-!”

“It’s not here,” Vesper interrupted again, and turned on Balrigard. “You sure about those dates?”

“Of course I am,” Balrigard huffed. 

Artemis moved a few drawers down while Vesper continued making a muck of the ones in front of him. Balrigard adjusted the fingers of his gloves, corrected the brim of his hat.

“Here, Vesp.” Artemis held up a tube, labeled with the Morel Theatre and the date 1873. “It’s from after the fire.”

“You’re brilliant,” Vesper gushed as he took the tube and rushed to a table in the middle of the room.

“Be careful with it!” Artemis and Balrigard said as one, but Vesper hardly listened. He popped the lid from tube and dumped the blueprints out while Artemis gave Balrigard another weird look.

“This is perfect,” Vesper said as he rolled the blueprints out, smoothing the edges with his wide palms. Balrigard took a few hesitant steps forward, wanting to avoid Vesper’s smell, but wanting to check the date on the plans. Sure enough, they were marked 1873.

“Happy now?” Artemis said more than asked, folding her arms as she looked down at the blueprints. 

“No,” Vesper pouted. “This can’t be right.”

“That’s because it’s not,” Balrigard said, steeling himself before coming to stand between Artemis and Vesper at the table. Artemis’s heart still raced with her temper, but Vesper’s calmer pulse sounded louder, and… Balrigard shook his head and tapped his gloved finger on the date. “These aren’t the original plans.”

Artemis grabbed his arm and made him face her. “How do you know that?”

Balrigard took a step back and fixed his sleeve. _ Don’t take your temper out on me, _he wanted to say. Instead he said, “I drafted the originals in 1819.”

Artemis balked. “You’re an _ architect _?” 

Vesper cackled, reminding them both of the present third party. “Oof, Art. How many dates did you go on, again?”

Artemis’s face went dangerously red. Balrigard tried not to notice.

“So, is anything off besides the date, _ Henri Morel _?”

Balrigard flinched as if he’d been struck. “I beg your pardon?”

Vesper smiled wickedly. “Have the plans changed at all?”

“Henri?” Artemis repeated, laughing humorlessly. “Your name is Henri?” She leaned over the blueprints, her jaw tensing when she saw his name etched on the bottom left hand corner. 

“No,” Balrigard snapped. _ It hasn’t been for a very long time. _ He jerked the plans away from Vesper and looked them over, then pointed to a wall. “There. There’s your difference. That wall isn’t meant to be there.”

“They must’ve closed it up after the fire,” Artemis said coldly.

“Nonsense,” Balrigard said. “The theatre wasn’t damaged in the fire.”

“But someone might’ve used the fire as an excuse to make a few alterations,” Vesper muttered under his breath, thinking aloud. “What was there originally?”

“Stairs.” Vesper gestured impatiently for more detail. Balrigard rolled his eyes and added, “To the lower level.”

“A basement?”

Balrigard shook his head. “A series of rooms. Storage, mostly.”

“Perfect!” Vesper yipped, then grabbed Balrigard’s arm and pulled him towards the door. “Let’s go!”

“Excuse me?” Balrigard cried as Artemis shouted, “Damn it, Vesper, no!”

“I need him, Art!” Vesper said, and tugged again on Balrigard’s arm. When Balrigard didn’t budge, Vesper looked up at him and smirked. “Damn, you really are strong, aren’t you?”

Balrigard easily yanked his arm out of Vesper’s grasp and stepped away from the siblings. “And you really are rude,” he grumbled as he fixed his sleeve again. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I have plans with Miss Art.”

“_ Miss _Art?” Vesper grinned. “Oh, Arty.”

Artemis threw up her arms and turned away from her brother’s mocking gaze. “Forget it. Go with him, Balrigard.”

“But Miss Ar-”

“I’ve got to be up early tomorrow, anyway. I’ll text you.”

Vesper clapped Balrigard roughly between the shoulders. “Sounds like you’re free now, buddy!” he chimed, and then leaned in close and loudly whispered, “_ You’re welcome. _ Now let’s go; I need a tour-guide.”

“Don’t _ buddy _me,” Balrigard warned. “And I’m not showing you around. The theatre is condemned. We can’t get in.”

Vesper flashed the inside of his leather jacket, and Balrigard saw the glint of a badge. Artemis groaned in the background as Vesper gave a cocky, toothy smile and said, “We sure can.”

“You’re police,” Balrigard said, surprised. _ This ass? _

“Not quite. Now come on, time’s a wastin.”

Balrigard dodged out of the way as Vesper moved to grab his arm again. “I can just draw the layout for you-”

“Faster to have you come with.” Vesper looked up at Balrigard and narrowed his dark eyes. “Or I could have you arrested, for failure to comply.”

“Vesper!” Artemis gasped. “You can’t-”

Balrigard wanted to slap that smug smile from the man’s face, but didn’t dare touch him.

“What’s it gunna be, _ Henri? _” Vesper hummed.

Balrigard jerked the brim of his hat down to hide his anger. “Let’s go.”

Vesper wasted no time in climbing back into his car, and leaned over to pop the lock on the passenger door for Balrigard. Balrigard eyed the car handle warily. He considered running; the last thing he wanted was to be crammed into a car with this man. His smell was bad enough, but his personality was atrocious. _ It’s this, or another night of PBS. _He opened the door, rolled down the window, removed his hat, and got in.

When Balrigard put on his seatbelt, Vesper laughed. “What?” Balrigard asked, glowering.

“You look terrified. Been in a car much?”

“No.” He adjusted the seatbelt so he could lean a little closer to the window.

Vesper turned the key in the ignition, and the car rumbled to life. “How do you get around?”

Balrigard looked at him from the corner of his eyes and sneered. “I fly.”

“Really?” Vesper asked, eyes widening.

“No,” Balrigard said and looked back out the window. “I use the subway.” _ Ass. _

“Ha! You’re a funny guy, Henri.” 

Balrigard opened his mouth to complain, but then Vesper shifted the car into reverse, whipped out of the parking spot, shifted again, and peeled out into the street.

“_ Jesus Christ! _” Balrigard hissed through his teeth, grabbing ahold of the back of his seat and the door handle as he pressed against the leather cushion. “What’s wrong with you?!”

Vesper howled with laughter, and Balrigard saw tears in his eyes. “I’m on the job.”

“What _ job? _ I thought you were a cop.” This wasn’t a police car, though. Balrigard looked into the back seat and saw stacks of manilla folders and crumpled documents, and… was that a _ gun? _

“Not quite, remember? I work for a private company.”

“Doing what? Kidnapping people?” Balrigard narrowed his eyes. “Do you even know who I am?”

“Henri Morel,” Vesper chuckled. “The asshole who dated my sister.”

Balrigard flinched. “I’m not the ‘asshole’ here-”

“Gotta say though,” Vesper continued, ignoring him. “You’re taking the breakup pretty well.”

“Breakup?” Balrigard repeated, his anger fizzling out. 

“Oh.” Vesper’s cheeks reddened, and Balrigard tried not to stare. “Oooh.” Vesper smacked his hand down on the dashboard and Balrigard jumped. “_ That’s _ why she was so pissed at me! Oh damn. She hadn’t done it yet, had she?” When Balrigard turned his face away (more to suck in air through the window than to avoid being seen), Vesper gave an exaggerated groan. “Shit. I’m sorry, bud.”

“Spare me,” Balrigard said quietly. He sighed and leaned back against the seat. He stared blankly out the window, and wondered why he didn’t feel that disappointed. He thought things had been going rather well. He inhaled deeply, taking in all the smells of the city, and then exhaled slowly, forcing them all away. _ Damn it. _

“You, uh… you alright?” Vesper murmured, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he slowed up to a red light. 

Balrigard regarded him lazily. “You look terrified.”

That willed a smile back onto Vesper’s face. _ Good. He looks weird without one. _“Artemis is going to kill me.”

Against his better judgement, Balrigard laughed. “You just kidnapped a vampire, and you’re worried about your _ sister _killing you.” He hoped the word ‘vampire’ would get a rise out of Vesper. Sure, Vesper already knew Balrigard had been alive since the 1800s, but there were other, less dangerous things ‘blessed’ with immortality. 

Vesper only shrugged as he hit the gas the moment the light turned green. “I’ve dealt with your kind plenty. But my sister is, well, my sister.”

“Oh.” _ Dealt with? _Balrigard considered the gun again, and the badge, and felt something awful creep up his spine. Was that dread? He hadn’t felt dread in a long time.

“I’m not a hunter,” Vesper said evenly. “If that’s what you’re thinking.”

“It’s not.” _ It is. _“Why, uh… why did she want to end things?”

“You don’t want to hear that from me, bud,” Vesper snickered. 

Balrigard took his phone from his pocket.

“Oh no, don’t go texting her now!”

Balrigard blinked. “I was going to call her.”

“That’s even worse!”

Balrigard slowly unlocked his phone and pulled up the keypad. “Well, if you’re not going to tell me…”

“You’re awful,” Vesper pouted. “No, that’s my opinion,” he quickly amended when he saw Balrigard’s surprise. “My sister thinks you’re fine, but you’re boring.”

Balrigard wished he felt offended by that. Instead, he nodded.

“You’re agreeing?”

“I read once that people who are bored tend to be boring,” Balrigard reflected.

Vesper’s eyes narrowed, and Balrigard held his breath as he heard Vesper’s heart quicken. “Are you saying my _ sister _ is the boring one? Or, you-- no. Don’t tell me you dated my sister just because _ you _ were bored_,_” Vesper growled.

Balrigard rested his elbow upon the window sill and looked out to hide his victorious grin (and get more fresh air). It was only fair for both of them to be in a foul mood. “I wouldn’t have gotten in your car if I wasn’t.”


	3. Chapter Two - Vesper

Vesper pulled into an alley a few blocks away from the Morel and killed the engine. “Hurry up, Henri,” he ordered as he got out, and it took a great deal of self control not to slam the door. _ Art deserves so much better, _ he thought as he opened the rear door to grab his pistol. The horrendous fashion he forgave immediately (it was almost endearing), but he couldn’t tolerate anyone, vampire or not, using his sister. _ Even if it was just for a smartphone tutorial. Honestly, it could’ve been worse. _ He grinned despite himself. _ It’s actually pretty funny. _

Balrigard donned his sunhat and started to make his way out of the alley, but Vesper called out to him, “Hold on. I’ve gotta get some stuff.” He walked around his car to the trunk and unlocked it, then stood to the side so Balrigard could get a good look. The interior was specially lined, and outfitted with bolted down, black cases. He rolled the combination on their locks and popped them open.

Balrigard rewarded Vesper’s show with an uneasy question. “Is that a UV light?”

Vesper picked up one of the palm-sized, aluminium tubes and slipped it into his pocket. “Mhmm.” He held another one out to Balrigard.

Balrigard shook his head and took a step back, still eyeing the case. “And silver?”

“Bingo.” He took two boxes of silver rounds and put them in his other pocket. 

“You said you weren’t a hunter.”

“I’m not,” Vesper laughed, and gestured again for Balrigard to take the tube. “Usually. Sometimes. I’m an investigator. These are just a precaution.”

“I can’t use that,” Balrigard said quietly. He looked worse than when Vesper tried (successfully) to scare him with his driving.

“Sure you can. It’s focused.” Vesper pointed a narrow gap in the tube away from Balrigard and pressed a button on the side. A thin beam of light lit up the alley wall. Balrigard pulled his windbreaker up over his mouth and nose and took a few more steps back. 

“No way,” the vampire stammered, and Vesper felt sure he was about to bolt. Vesper quickly turned the light off and tossed the spare back into the case. 

“Alright, alright. You just better hope the place is still empty.” Vesper locked the case and then his trunk, and waved for Balrigard to follow.

“The theatre? Why wouldn’t it be? It’s condemned,” Balrigard blabbered as he fell into step slightly behind Vesper. “Are you expecting it to be dangerous? Shouldn’t you have a team for this?”

Vesper rolled his eyes. “I didn’t need a team. I’ve been staking it for days; no one has come or gone.” He held up his hand for Balrigard to wait as they approached the theatre’s block. “It’ll be a quick in and out. I just need you to make sure we hit every room downstairs.”

Balrigard shifted uncomfortably behind Vesper. “Can I please walk in front?”

“Why?”

Balrigard still held his windbreaker over his nose. “Your smell.”

“Don’t tell me,” Vesper laughed, recalling his sister’s story of her disastrous ‘date.’ “I smell like garlic.”

“No,” Balrigard wheezed.

Vesper looked back over his shoulder, and Balrigard took a step back. “What? My cologne?”

Balrigard shook his head. “Let’s just get this over with, please.”

Vesper bared his teeth in what he hoped was an irritating smile. “Still bored?”

Balrigard groaned.

Plyboard covered most of the Morel’s broken windows, and some scaffolding remained in place to keep the exterior from crumbling onto the sidewalk. Vesper imagined it must have been a grand sight back in the day, but now it just looked like a fire hazard. “If you built it, why’d you let it get like this?” Vesper asked as he unlocked a padlock on the front door. A small, discrete piece of paper fluttered to the ground as he opened the door. _ No one’s been here since I left. _

“I didn’t build it,” Balrigard corrected in that condescending tone of his. “I just designed it. I haven’t had anything to do with it since it opened.” Balrigard ducked as he followed Vesper inside and looked up at the ceiling warily. “Are you sure it’s safe to be in here?” his voice echoed in the large room.

Vesper looked up at the high, vaulted ceiling, the paint and gold leaf run through with cracks. “Pretty sure.”

They made their way through the lobby and down a side hall stripped of valuables, Vesper using his cellphone as a flashlight. Normally he used the UV, but he didn’t want Balrigard to get cold feet and run. “What exactly are you looking for?” Balrigard asked despondently, and Vesper looked back and noticed the vampire pausing to inspect a bare, crumbling patch of wall. He reached out with a gloved hand and picked at a crack, and Vesper wished Balrigard would pull his windbreaker back down so he could get a better read on what was going through his head.

“A known venom dealer has been seen snooping around here,” Vesper explained as he stepped through a buckling doorframe. “I’m thinking there’s a lab in here somewhere. Or at least, there used to be.”

As they came to a room somewhere behind the main stage, Balrigard pointed to a wall. “The stairway should be there.”

Vesper crossed to it and knelt down. He didn’t see any skid marks in the dust, but there were plenty of footprints. “How’s it open?” he wondered aloud as he looked up. It looked like a normal, blank, albeit crumbling wall. He started jamming his fingers into the cracks and pulling on them, feeling for a handle or any give. Balrigard stood a few yards behind him, looking the wall over but not making any moves to help.

“Come on, Henri,” Vesper groaned as he opted for pushing on the wall. He felt a little budge, and saw a complete seam appear in the cracks of the wall. “There! Help me open this!” 

Balrigard scowled at him.

Vesper hung his head and laughed. “_Balrigard. _”

The vampire nodded his satisfaction and stepped forward. “Move.”

Vesper stepped aside so Balrigard could take his place. “It felt like there was a hand hold in that crack there. Maybe if you took off your gloves you could reach in and-”

Balrigard placed his shoulder and opposite hand against the wall, crushing the brim of his sunhat, and pushed. He grit his teeth as a crack in the plaster burst out from beneath his palm. The wooden floorboards groaned beneath his polished dress shoes. There was a metallic _ shriek, _and the wall caved inward, hinges ripped from the frame. Balrigard stumbled forward, looking almost surprised at how easily the door had given way, and nearly went headfirst down the stairs.

“Jesus!” Vesper exclaimed, more in awe than afraid. “I didn’t mean like that.”

“There’s… your stairs…” Balrigard panted as he fixed the brim of his hat and eyed the hinges. “The lock is modern. The hinges are not.”

Vesper uttered a laugh of disbelief. “Remind me not to piss you off.”

“You already have,” Balrigard said, but he smiled, and Vesper mirrored the grin. 

Vesper went down first, one hand raised to guide his way with the cellphone and the other hovering over his holstered pistol. Before he could open the door at the bottom, a hand yanked him back.

“Wait,” Balrigard hissed, his grip on Vesper’s shoulder almost painful. He tugged his windbreaker down and wrinkled his nose. “I smell blood.” 

“I mean, my heart is racing pretty damn fast right now-”

“Not yours,” Balrigard interrupted as he eyed the door. “Yours is different.”

“Are you saying I’m special?” Vesper snickered.

Balrigard regarded him with a look of surprise that quickly deteriorated into disgust. “_No. _I mean, what I smell isn’t human.”

Vesper considered reaching for the UV light, considered reaching for the pistol. “What is it?”

Balrigard closed his eyes and inhaled. His brows pinched together. He stepped around Vesper to press against the door and inhale again. “I… I don’t really know.” He looked back up at Vesper bitterly, as if it were his fault.

“Does it smell dead or alive?”

Balrigard’s frown deepened. “There’s a lot of it.”

“Dead then,” Vesper decided, and pushed by Balrigard to open the door. The hallway beyond stank of dust and mildew, and Vesper could hear something dripping in the murk. He lifted his cellphone and illuminated piles of debri and old crates stacked haphazardly against the walls. “What’s behind these doors?” Vesper asked, nodding to two wooden doors on the left wall. Balrigard didn’t answer. “Balrigard?” He looked over his shoulder. The vampire stood rigid behind him, his sunglasses askew on the bridge of his nose.

“There’s someone there,” he whispered.

Vesper opted for the pistol over the UV. UV only took out one thing; silver handled most. “Come on out,” he ordered as he aimed the gun down the hallway and instinctively stepped in front of Balrigard. “We know you’re there.” 

A crate shifted, and a man rose up and stepped into the middle of the hall. 

“State your name,” Vesper said evenly. His heart was racing, but the panic hadn’t reached his head.

Balrigard’s hand was on his shoulder again. “Vesper, I-”

The man lurched forward, taking five steps in the time it would’ve taken a human to make one. Vesper fired. The man screamed and stumbled as the bullet pierced his thigh, and blood spattered on the floor.

“_Vesper!” _Balrigard squealed behind him. “What are you-?!”

“Get back,” Vesper warned, and began approaching the man. He’d crumpled to his knees, one hand squeezing his thigh where the bullet entered. “Hands on the ground. I can remove the bullet, but I need you to cooperate-- _ Hey_!”

The man jerked, and a few shards of glass clattered to the floor. He looked up at Vesper, a small, broken vial glittering in his teeth. Thick, black liquid oozed down his chin, and Vesper watched in horror as the man’s eyes went white. “What the-” he began, and then the man was standing directly in front of him. Vesper could feel the man’s hand growing larger as it wrapped around his throat and lifted him off the ground, and he pressed the gun’s barrel to the man’s chest and fired twice.

The man screamed and spun around, throwing Vesper further down the hallway. A crate broke his fall, the old wood practically crumbling beneath him. The stone wall on the other side of the crate didn’t give as easily, however, and stars burst in Vesper’s eyes as the back of his head cracked against it. 

_ Werewolf? _ Vesper thought in a daze as the man, nearly eight feet tall now, stalked towards him. _ No. _The silver shots to the chest would’ve killed it on the spot. Vesper fumbled with his pocket and freed the UV light. His cellphone still glowed from the foot of the stairs where he’d dropped it. He couldn’t see Balrigard, so he flipped the UV on and shone the beam into the approaching man’s eyes.

_ Oh my God. _The thing coming towards him wasn’t a man anymore. It wasn’t a wolf, or a vampire, either, but something seemingly stuck in between all three. Its massive hands dragged along the floor as it stooped forward to fit in the hallway. It opened its protruding, gaping mouth in a snarl and revealed rows of ingrown, needle-sharp fangs pressing up through blackened gums. Smoke curled off of its too-tight skin where the UV light illuminated it and its flesh blackened around the bullet wounds, but the creature did not combust or go into anaphylactic shock. 

The monster stood over Vesper and reached down, plucking the UV light from his grasp and crushing it. Vesper tried to raise his pistol, and found it missing. “Shit!” He pushed off from the wall and tried to scramble through the wreckage of the crate, but the creature grabbed his ankle and lifted him into the air. “Shit, shit, shit!” Silver bullets poured from his pockets and clattered to the floor. 

Vesper pressed his hands against the creature’s face as it opened its mouth and lurched forward. Its jaws snapped shut with a disgusting crunch, some of its teeth not fitting back together and breaking off as they struck against one another. Vesper screamed a curse and jammed his thumbs into the monster’s eyes, and it shrieked with pain and dropped him. He quickly pushed himself to his feet and stumbled towards a door at the end of the hall. It swung open, and Vesper saw the dim outline of a woman stepping forward, a gun raised and pointed at his head.

The gun fired; Vesper cupped his ears as he dropped to the floor and clenched his eyes shut against the muzzle flash. _ I’m dead, _ he thought, even as he moved his hands to search for a gaping hole in the middle of his forehead. _ I’m not dead. _He opened his eyes and looked up, blinking and dumbfounded.

The woman remained standing before him, but her arm was bent at an odd angle to point the gun at the wall, and her head sagged from a broken neck. She collapsed to the ground beside him, and Vesper scooted out of the way to avoid being caught beneath her. “What the-- _ Henri?” _

Balrigard, missing his sunhat and shades, stood in the woman’s place, staring down at his gloved hands. His narrow chest heaved with each exaggerated breath, and he looked like he was going to be sick. “Don’t call me that,” he said shakily as he awkwardly stepped over Vesper, removing his gloves and dropping them into Vesper’s lap. “And stay down.”


	4. Chapter Three - Balrigard

_ What am I doing? _

Balrigard froze as the creature in front of him lowered onto all fours and snarled, black blood and foam spraying his windbreaker.  _ What am I doing?!  _ He spaced his feet apart and hunched his shoulders, hoping to brace himself against whatever came next.  _ WhatamIdoing?! _

The creature lunged, and acting without thought, Balrigard dropped to the ground and dove beneath it. As he slid between its legs, he spun around and grabbed its ankle, pulling it back away from Vesper. It tried to claw its way forward, still set on tearing the human apart. 

“Shit— Balrigard!” Vesper shouted as he scooted backwards toward the door. 

“I’m trying!” Balrigard snarled. He pushed off the ground to leap onto the creature’s back and tried to throw his arms around its neck. “Come on, you bastar-!” Balrigard taunted, until the creature slammed its back against the wall, crushing him. He wheezed as the air burst from his lungs, and he tasted his own putrid blood on his tongue.  _ I am going to die.  _

The monster screamed again as Vesper peppered its face with gunshot from the woman’s pistol. The creature reached back, snagging its claws in Balrigard’s windbreaker, and dragged him over its shoulder to slam him on the ground. Then its head snapped back in Vesper’s direction and it charged.

The gun clicked, empty. “Bal!”

Balrigard stood, his windbreaker hanging in ribbons over his torso. “Damn it,” he cursed under his breath. He leapt onto the creature again and wrapped his arms around its waist, bringing the both of them to the ground. It snarled and thrashed as Balrigard tried to pin it down. He just needed an opening, just needed-- The creature reached back to grab him again, and Balrigard heard it,  _ smelled it.  _ He grabbed the creature’s wrist, pressed his fangs from his gums, and bit into the beast. 

The blood tasted foul: rotten like a vampire’s, warm like a wolf’s, rich like a human’s. He bit again and jerked his head. He gagged as he came away with sinewy muscle dangling from his teeth. The monster kept screaming, but Balrigard could not hear it over the sound of its heart beating. He clawed his way up the length of the creature’s back and knotted his fingers in its bristly hair. With a sharp tug, he yanked the creature’s head to the side, exposing its neck. Then he sank his teeth in deep, slicing through skin and muscle until he found the artery that deafened him. 

“Ba-... Balrigard?”

Balrigard gasped and threw his head back. The creature had long ago grown still beneath him, its form shrunken back into that of a man. Vesper stood a few feet away, his own pistol recovered and gripped tightly in both of his shaking hands.

“Oh, God,” Balrigard groaned as he rose unsteadily to his feet. He wiped his arm across his mouth and startled at the sight of thick, black blood on his shredded sleeve. “ _ Oh my God. _ ”

“Easy, now,” Vesper urged, lowering his gun and taking a step towards Balrigard. “Just try and breathe, okay?”

“I didn’t mean to--” Balrigard heaved.  _ Not again…  _ His lungs felt like the beast was still crushing him against the wall. “And the woman, I- Oh  _ God,  _ Vesper.  _ I killed them. _ ”

“They were going to kill us, Bal. Balrigard. It’s okay, I promise.”

Balrigard sank to his knees, running his bloody fingers through his hair.  _ How long has it been since...?  _ “I killed them.” He leaned to the side and retched.

“Oh, man,” Vesper groaned, and knelt on Balrigard’s opposite side. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. We were attacked first. They can’t punish you for this. You  _ saved  _ me.”

Balrigard shook his head. “I can’t-- I want to go home,  _ please. _ ” This was stupid; he shouldn’t have come. He grabbed Vesper’s wrist when the man tried to touch his arm. He felt Vesper’s pulse quicken beneath his thumb, felt his fangs pressing at his lower lip, and pushed Vesper away. “Do you have my gloves?”

Vesper rubbed his wrist, frowning. “I dropped them so I could grab the gun.”

Balrigard moaned and forced himself to his feet, leaving Vesper to stand up on his own. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Hey, look at me.” Vesper placed a warm, heavy hand on Balrigard’s shoulder, turning Balrigard back around to face him. “You okay? You, uh, got a lot of that black shit in your mouth.”

Balrigard tried not to think about the taste. “I’m fine,” he lied and jerked his shoulder out from beneath Vesper’s hand. “Stop touching me. Also, you have a concussion.”

Vesper smiled as if he thought it were a joke. “Alright. Can you tell me, is there anyone else here?”

Balrigard lifted his head and inhaled. He could only smell the creature’s blood, and Vesper’s, oozing down the back of his head, his neck, staining the back of his shirt, red and warm and fresh and- Balrigard pressed his fist to his mouth as he gagged. “No. Just us.”

“Good. Okay, yes, that’s good.” Vesper reached out to pat Balrigard’s shoulder, seemed to remember the warning, and returned his hand to his side. “I need to check these rooms, and then I’ll leave. But you should head back up. Go get some fresh air and wait for me, okay?”

Balrigard nodded, but when Vesper went back towards the door the woman had come from, Balrigard followed. He could see the red caked in Vesper’s black hair, beads of warmth oozing from a nasty cut. Balrigard grimaced as he forced his upper and lower canines back into place, level alongside the rest of his teeth.

“Do you have a flashlight?” Vesper asked as he stumbled into the dark room. 

“No.”

“You don’t have your phone?”

“Oh.” Balrigard pulled his phone from his pocket and pressed it into Vesper’s searching hand. “Does this one have one?”

“ _ Balrigard _ ,” Vesper chuckled as he tapped the screen and illuminated the room. “I thought Artemis showed you how to use this.” 

“I guess she assumed I didn’t need the flashlight. Which, I don’t.” Balrigard looked around the room. The last time he’d seen it, it had been in use for building and painting set pieces. Now, beakers, bottles, and lab equipment cluttered the tops of plastic fold-out tables, and dark stains marred the concrete floor. “Ah… there’s the blood I smelled.”

Vesper cursed under his breath as he looked over the makeshift lab. The flashlight came to rest over a hole tunneled into the back wall. “They were here the whole time! Do you smell anyone down there?”

Balrigard shook his head. “I don’t know. I can’t… Ugh, it smells awful in here.” He wished he had the foresight to remove his windbreaker alongside his gloves before the fight. He tried to pull it over his nose and heard it rip further. 

“Like that  _ thing _ ?” Vesper asked nervously.

“No. More like-” Balrigard trailed off as he looked to the corner of the room. He swallowed. “Vampire.” A shriveled form slouched in a large iron chair, its blackened wrists held down with silver manacles. Its mouth hung open, its shriveled gums peeled back, exposing the full length of its fangs.

Vesper approached cautiously, pistol raised, though Balrigard could tell from where he stood that the vampire was well and truly dead. “What did they do to you?” Vesper murmured as he used the barrel of the gun to prod at a tube protruding from the vampire’s wrist. “That’s not normal.”

Balrigard thought he might be sick again. He crossed the room to stand slightly behind Vesper and stared down at the vampire in horror. More tubes jutted from the husk’s neck, chest, and stomach. “They… they bled him dry.”

“I don’t think this is the lab of a venom dealer,” Vesper said as he eyed the rest of the lab equipment. “They might be turning people.”

_ It’s the war all over again.  _ “Into more of those monsters?” Balrigard shuddered.

“I don’t know… I need more information. I need to go down that tunnel. Whoever runs this place can’t be far.”

“W- _ what _ ?” Balrigard scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous! We need to get out of here. Vesper, we almost  _ died. _ ”

Vesper waved him off like a bothersome fly. “I told you to go outside. I can deal with this. They won’t catch me off guard a second time.”

“Vesper, you  _ have a concussion. _ ”

“How do you know?” Vesper staggered towards the tunnel, holding Balrigard’s phone out in front of him. “I’ve been hit harder than that before.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Balrigard urged, pursuing Vesper across the room. “Don’t be difficult.  _ Please,  _ Vesper. I want to go home, but I’m not leaving you down here to die. Then Miss Art will kill  _ me. _ ”

“Ha,” Vesper breathed. “She would, wouldn’t she? How’s this? I’ll sit and rest for a few minutes. Would that make you feel better?”

“Not really.”

Vesper patted Balrigard’s shoulder, and Balrigard fought the urge to slap his hand away. “Good enough. Five minutes, you’ll see. I’ll be right as rain. Now, where’s a chair…”

Balrigard looked to the dried up vampire and grimaced. “It’s occupied.”

“That’s okay. I can just sit right here.” Vesper clumsily holstered his pistol, and grabbed ahold of Balrigard’s arm to steady himself as he sank to the ground. Halfway there, his grip went slack, and Vesper crumpled to the floor, unconscious.


	5. Chapter Four - Vesper

“Ah yes, my address. Do you have a pen handy? … Drop a pin? I don’t… Oh! It has a map?”

Vesper cracked his eyes open as a shadow passed by him, pecking at a smartphone with slender fingers. He groaned and arched his back, expecting pain or at least mild stiffness but feeling neither. “Where…?” he wondered aloud as he looked up at a plaster ceiling. He smelled mothballs, carpet freshener, and wood polish. Somewhere, he heard a dryer buzz.  _ Grandma’s house?  _

He sat up on an olive-colored, velvet sofa. Opposite a coffee table sporting a stack of gardening magazines and ceramic coasters, Vesper beheld a matching armchair and a tube-television straight out of the sixties. It fit the bill, but this wasn’t his grandmother’s house. In place of dozens of framed photographs of grandchildren, the floral-papered walls were sparsely decorated with oil paintings of city streets and Boston harbor, each of them bearing the same signature.  _ Henri Morel.  _ Vesper remembered seeing the same signature on the blueprints of the threatre…

“Oh  _ shit! _ ” Vesper cursed as he threw back a scallop-trimmed, hand-knitted blanket and jumped to his feet. He over compensated the strength it would take to get up and pitched forward, catching his knee on the edge of the coffee table and sending magazines scattering to the floor. “ _ Augh! _ ” 

“Oh, he’s awake.”

Vesper turned and the room blurred around him. He held his head and closed his eyes until the world stopped spinning. When he opened them, he saw Balrigard standing in an open doorway, one hand on his hip and the other pressing his phone to his ear. His damp, ash-brown hair clung to his cheeks and forehead, beginning to curl at the edge of his jaw and ears. He wore pleated, mustard-colored trousers with leather suspenders over a white, long-sleeve button up, and an obnoxiously colorful, chunky, wool cardigan that might have been handmade. A respirator hung from an elastic strap under his chin.

“Yes, I’ll have him call you,” Balrigard said into the phone as he glared at Vesper and pointed for him to sit back down. “And the address, yes, I’ll have him send it to you, too. Thank you, Miss Ar-- Artemis... Yes, of course... Goodbye.” Balrigard hung up his phone and placed it upon the coffee table as he came into the living room. “You need to sit down.”

“Was that my sister?” Vesper swallowed.

“ _ Sit down. _ ”

“Where am I?” Vesper asked, his mind running a thousand miles a minute when he spotted a large, ornate grandfather clock by a heavily curtained window. The second hand seemed to move sluggishly from one notch to the next.  _ Ugh, what’s wrong with my head? Is that… four a.m.?  _ He remembered arriving at the theatre sometime around midnight. “Is this your house?” he asked, and faced Balrigard as the vampire came to stand beside him.

“Yes,” Balrigard said, his brows pinched together with irritation. He placed a hand on Vesper’s shoulder and shoved him back down onto the couch. Vesper found himself surprised by the lanky man’s strength for the upteenth time, and collapsed with an  _ oomph!  _

“Okay, okay. I’m sitting,” Vesper grumbled as he sat up straight, a little annoyed at being pushed around so easily. “You shouldn’t go knocking over a guy with a concussion.”

“You don’t have a concussion.”

“What? You said so yourself, and I-” Vesper began as he reached up to rub the back of his head. As he ran his fingers through his hair, he inhaled the scent of saline and ivory soap. “Wait a second.” He worked his fingers against his scalp, feeling for a cut or a bump and finding nothing, not even stitches. “Where’d it go?!”

“Relax,” Balrigard sighed, and produced a small bottle from his pocket. “I just gave you this.”

Vesper turned the empty glass bottle over in his hands and squinted down at the label. The letters looked abnormally crisp, like when he would jokingly wear his mother’s reading glasses.  _ Pyren.  _ “No way...” Vesper whispered, running his thumb over the punctured aluminum cap. The knock-off stuff alone cost thousands. Last he heard, pyren went for fifty grand a bottle. “How did you get this?”

“I was given one last time I… donated,” Balrigard said with a shrug, looking mildly uncomfortable. He brought his hand up to the respirator around his neck, as if considering putting it on. “I don’t have any need for it, obviously, but you kept blacking out and talking nonsense. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You didn’t take me to a hospital?”

Balrigard toyed with the strap on the respirator. “I avoid them if I can. This was easier.”

Vesper leaned back into the couch and looked around the room. It seemed well-lit enough, but as he purposefully sought out light fixtures, he noticed none of them were on. The room must’ve been nearly pitch black. “Damn,” he whispered. “So this is what it feels like to be a vampire?” Sharp vision, no aches and pains, and an acute awareness of mothballs somewhere in another room.  _ Not bad.  _

Balrigard looked like he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or glare some more at Vesper. “No.” He reached out and swiped the vial from Vesper’s hands, then retreated to the armchair and sat down. “I gave you the tonic the moment we got here. It’s mostly worn off now.”

“Oh. Wait. That stuff lasts hours! How long was I unconscious?”

“Not long.” Balrigard considered the grandfather clock. “Fourteen hours?” 

“ _ Fourteen hours?!”  _ Vesper panicked, jumping to his feet again. This time he managed to avoid bumping the coffee table by going clear over it.

“Easy!” Balrigard shouted as he stood up, catching Vesper moments before he went through the television. Balrigard’s bare hands were cold as ice as he lowered his grip from Vesper’s shoulders to his forearms. Vesper gasped at the chill, and then stared at Balrigard in a daze as more smells assaulted him: ivory soap, toothpaste, and laundry detergent, and beneath them the monster’s blood, stronger than he remembered it. He inhaled again, deeper. He smelled the chill of cold stone and winter, fresh earth, fertilizer, and greenery, sawdust and wood stain, turpentine and oil paints, pencil shavings and fresh paper, all of them layered beneath Balrigard’s skin like the rings of a tree.

“What’s wrong?” Balrigard asked. “You look feverish.” He placed a frigid hand to Vesper’s forehead, then his cheek. 

“You smell amazing,” Vesper admitted, surprised. Balrigard mirrored his expression, eyebrows pinching together and lips parting slightly in shock. Without thinking, Vesper turned his nose against Balrigard’s palm and inhaled again. “Like-”

Balrigard unceremoniously shoved Vesper down into the armchair. “You need to  _ sit down. _ ” 

“Hey!” Vesper snarled. He tried to swipe Balrigard’s hand away and missed by a mile. The smell faded as Balrigard stepped away from him, but the chill of his touch lingered on Vesper’s cheek and shoulders a moment longer. “What the hell was that?!”

Balrigard yanked the respirator up over his mouth and nose. “The tonic is meant to promote healing, but it temporarily alters your physiology to do so,” Balrigard explained, answering the wrong question. “Your eyesight, your sense of smell… your strength.” He knelt down to pick up magazines and toss them back onto the coffee table. “You’ll end up breaking something if you keep moving around like that.”

Vesper narrowed his eyes at the respirator and frowned. Balrigard’s aversion to his scent suddenly felt far more insulting. He lifted his arm to his nose and inhaled. He just smelled like… himself.  _ Maybe a little sweaty. _ He  _ did  _ sleep in the same clothes for fourteen hours, apparently. He looked down at his shirt, and found his tri-color, plain, grey tee replaced with an oversized, threadbare ‘I ‘Heart’ Boston’ one. “This isn’t mine…” He looked up Balrigard, his frown twitching up into an involuntary grin. “Did you change my shirt?”

Instead of looking at him, Balrigard stood up and walked away. “It was covered in blood,” he said as he passed behind the sofa. “It should be dry now.” He disappeared through a doorway, and Vesper heard him open another door a few seconds later. Vesper breathed in and smelled sawdust, mildew, and earth mixed in with laundry detergent and dryer sheets.  _ A basement.  _ It felt thrilling to able to tell so much about Balrigard’s house by just sitting there in the dark and breathing.  _ Ah.  _ Maybe that’s why Balrigard pushed him away. It was a  _ little  _ invasive, he supposed. 

Balrigard returned a few moments later with Vesper’s shirt and leather jacket folded neatly under his arm, and the respirator back around his neck. “Here,” he said, dropping Vesper’s belongings onto the coffee table. “Your boots are on the back porch, but I wouldn’t recommend getting them just yet. Your eyes are still too sensitive to light, and the sun… well…”

Vesper made a hissing sound and wiggled his fingers like crackling flames and smoke.

Balrigard scoffed. “Not quite that severe, but yes. I told your sister to come pick you up once the sun sets.”

“My sister… Shit, I almost forgot. You were on the phone with her, weren’t you?”

Balrigard nodded, and pulled Vesper’s phone from his jacket pocket. “She wanted you to call her, and to uh… drop a pin? On my address?”

“You didn’t mention the breakup, did you?” Vesper asked as he turned on his phone and squinted at the glaring screen. Even at its dimmest setting, it seemed too bright. He swiped his thumb up the screen, his heart sinking as he scrolled over more than a dozen text notifications in all caps from  _ Art-Fart.  _ He caught glimpses of ‘ _ YOU TOLD HIM?!’ and ‘WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?!...’ and ‘IF YOU AREN’T DEAD I’M GOING TO KILL...’  _ before getting cold feet and shoving his phone back into his pocket. “You did.”

Balrigard looked smug as he took his own phone from the coffee table. “Like I said, you were out for fourteen hours. I got bored.”

“What? A near-death experience wasn’t thrilling enough for you?” Vesper asked bitterly, though he couldn’t help but smile at how ridiculous that was.

“On the contrary, it was a little too thrilling.” Balrigard unlocked his phone and swiped through it idly. “Is that a normal night for you?”

“Not at all,” Vesper groaned. He felt his pocket buzz and he sank further back into the armchair, wishing it would swallow him whole. “Sometimes I help with minor disturbances. Werewolf riled up at a bar. Woman calling in a complaint because a vampire got stuck outside during the day and decided to hole up in her shed. Car clipping a shapeshifter galavanting around as a deer. There’s been some worse ones, violent ones, obviously, but otherwise I’m just there to check things out after the crime has been committed. The gun and UV are mostly just a precaution in case a suspect decides to return to the scene.

“Last night wasn’t a return, though. That was an active lab. They must’ve grabbed their stock and run off down the tunnel while we were fighting…” Vesper leaned his head back and groaned. “Damn. I need to call my supervisor, too. We need to get more people down there, and the bodies-”

“About those,” Balrigard interrupted. He leaned back against the arm of the sofa, still looking down at his phone. Vesper noticed Balrigard’s hands shaking, hovering above the screen. “Am I… you know...” He was either struggling to find words or reluctant to speak them. “What’s going to happen to me, in regards to them?”

“Nothing,” Vesper promised. “Though, I’ll likely get reprimanded for bringing you along.”

Balrigard swallowed. He didn’t look convinced. “Not fired?”

“Mm, I’m not going to consider that possibility.” Vesper’s pocket buzzed again, and he reluctantly pulled his phone out. “One thing at a time, though.” Not usually a philosophy he lived by, but he’d make an exception for today. “What’s your address?”

Vesper returned to the sofa after sending the information to Artemis along with a promise that she could scream at him all she wanted once he was in the car with her. For now, he wanted to lay down and forget he existed for a few more hours. Looking at his phone screen for even a short period of time made his eyes burn, so he looked up at the paintings above the television instead.  _ They’re really good,  _ he thought, recognizing a less-modern, rainy downtown, traffic and car lights reflecting off of wet pavement.

An hour later, Balrigard brought him two glasses of water, a packet of peanut butter crackers, and an aspirin. “You’re going to feel sore and fatigued once the serum wears off.”

“Like a human, you mean?” Vesper chuckled, and wondered why a vampire had peanut butter crackers and aspirin handy. He subtly checked the expiration date on the crackers before ripping them open and popping one whole into his mouth. He closed his eyes and groaned around the crumbs. “Jesus, these have never tasted so good.”

“Yeah?” Balrigard said, settling into his armchair. His hair was mostly dry now, his curls soft and cherubic.  _ Arty really knows how to pick ‘em.  _ “What do they taste like?”

“Huh?” Vesper looked away as he slid another cracker out of the packet. “Uhh… sort of like how it smells, I guess? Salty. Peanut butter...y… Buttery, definitely, on the cracker side.”

Balrigard looked at the cracker thoughtfully, then up at Vesper. “What’s your favorite food?”

Vesper pursed his lips and thought. “A cheeseburger? Or maybe my mom’s lasagna?”

“I’ve not had either.”

“Oh yeah? Well, what’s your-- uh,  _ was  _ your favorite? Before your diet became… limited.” Vesper put another cracker in his mouth, knowing he sounded more offensive than he meant to be.

Balrigard smiled, though. “ _ Everything _ . Potatoes and eggs. Beef stew. Fish. Fresh, hot bread with honey and maple sugar.”

“You’re making me hungry,” Vesper chuckled, surprised by Balrigard’s enthusiasm. 

“Me too,” Balrigard wistfully. He drummed his fingers on the arms of the chair, and his gaze fell lazily down to Vesper’s neck. Vesper raised an eyebrow. Immediately, Balrigard’s smile vanished, and he rose to his feet. “Make sure you drink both of those glasses before your sister gets here,” he said stiffly. Then he excused himself with an awkward bow of his head and disappeared into another room.

Vesper finished eating the crackers alone in the dark.

***

Tires crunched up a gravel driveway shortly after the clocks scattered throughout Balrigard’s home chimed nine, all perfectly in sync. “Balrigard?” Vesper called out groggily as he sat up on the couch, holding his head. His vision swam, and the room faded in and out of darkness. Vesper turned on his phone light and carefully stood up, wary of any lingering effects of the pyren. “Balrigard?” he said again as he followed the sound of someone knocking on the front door. “Hey, Balrigard, I think Artemis is here.”

Vesper undid two latches and cracked the door, making sure it was fully dark outside before he opened it all the way. “Hey, Arty.”

Artemis scowled at him, then stood on tiptoes to peer over his shoulder. “Where’s Balrigard?”

“Good to see you’re safe and alive, too,” Vesper laughed dryly. “No idea. Haven’t seen him for a few hours.” Artemis deflated, and Vesper realized he felt equally disappointed. 

“Hey, I need to go get my boots,” he remembered, and eagerly latched onto it as an excuse to find Balrigard. “I’m sure you can come inside while I look for them.”

Artemis folded her arms and looked down at her feet. “No, it’s okay,” she said stubbornly. “I’ll wait here.”  _ Oh, Arty. _

Vesper retreated back into the house, trying to find his way back door. “Hey,  _ Henri _ ! How do I get to the porch-” He turned a corner and ran face first into something solid. A hand reached out to grab his arm to keep him from falling over backwards, and Vesper knew from the chill it was Balrigard.

“There you are!” Vesper gasped. “My sister is here. She was looking for you, and I need my-.”

Balrigard shoved a pair of leather boots against Vesper’s chest. “Here.”

“Oh, thanks.” He sniffled.  _ Linseed oil?  _ He ran his thumb over the now smooth toe of one of his boots. “Did you clean these?”

Balrigard still held his arm. “Make sure you drink more water when you get home.”

Vesper shone his camera light up at Balrigard. The vampire squinted and turned his head away, but Vesper saw the heavy frown dragging his features down.“You okay?”

“Of course.”

Vesper tried to will a smile out of him. “You’re avoiding my sister, aren’t you?”

Balrigard’s frown deepened. He released Vesper’s arm and took a step back. “Take care, Vesper.”

“Right. See ya, then?” He reached out to shake Balrigard’s hand.

Balrigard regarded his hand but did not take it. “Key is under the mat; lock the door when you leave.”

_ Or not. _

Vesper reclined in the passenger seat of Artemis’s recently vacuumed four-door, staring out the window while Artemis berated and lectured him as only an older sister could. He resisted the urge to retort with a classic “Okay, Dad,” and busied himself with inspecting his boots instead. Not only had the leather been conditioned, but the soles were scrubbed clean and the laces washed. 

_ I wonder…  _ Vesper unfolded his grey t-shirt, seeking out a hole in the seam under the right arm. His eyes widened, and he quickly turned the sleeve inside out. The thread used for the repair was slightly off color from the rest of the seam, but otherwise unnoticeable. His leather jacket seemed untouched, until he opened it and found all the pills in the cotton lining had been shaved off. No wonder why Balrigard’s clothes all looked brand new despite being decades out of fashion. The man knew how to take care of them.

“What’s with the tacky tourist shirt?” Artemis sneered, having exhausted her supply of warranted and reasonable things to chastise him for. 

Vesper looked down and grinned at the faded heart. “It’s awful, isn’t it? Balrigard lent it to me.”

Artemis screeched to a halt at a stop sign. “He lent you  _ his shirt?”  _

Vesper looked at her from the corner of his eyes and smirked. “You jealous?”

“Screw you, Vesper.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”


	6. Chapter Five - Balrigard

Balrigard sat on the bathroom floor, clutching an empty plastic packet in his right hand. He reached back with his left and flushed the toilet, sending black blood, rancid bile, and bits of peanut butter cracker down the drain.  _ That’s the last of it,  _ he thought, and stood up to brush his teeth one more time. The mint smelled pleasant but tasted like ashes in his mouth. He preferred it to the taste of that monster’s blood, at least.

He tossed the empty cracker packet into the garbage can alongside two others, and then went into his living room to wait. He crouched beside the layered, blackout curtains on a front-facing window and cautiously peeled them back even though he knew the sun wouldn’t rise for another three hours. No cars. He sat there for a few more hours, until the sky began to lighten and drove him fearfully back into the depths of his home.

He paced circles around the living room, tracing a well-worn path in the carpet around the coffee table, behind the couch, to each of the blackened windows, and then back again. He froze any time he heard a siren, whether it be on his street or a mile away, and waited with bated breath. “They can’t punish you for this,” he whispered to himself, repeating Vesper’s promise made in the basement of the Morel. “ _ They can’t punish you for this _ .” The siren faded away, and Balrigard resumed his pacing.

For four days, the closest he came to leaving his house was to open his back door and set out fresh water and a dish of dry food for the cats living under his porch. The thought of them crossing the street to find another source of food in his absence and getting hit by a car filled him with enough dread to take that risk.

On the fifth night, Balrigard shuddered awake to the sound of an engine dying in his driveway. He must’ve dozed off as he sat waiting by the front door. He stood up and peered through the peephole, and uttered a fearful whimper. 

A woman in a grey, custom-tailored suit with sharp, white heels got out of a black sedan and began making her way to Balrigard’s front door. She clutched a bulky folder in one hand, wore three white-gold rings on the other, and held a black case under her arm. Balrigard opened the door before she could knock; he didn’t have the guts to run.

“Hello, Balrigard,” the woman said evenly, neither frowning nor smiling. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Miss Hudson.”

“It’s Mrs. Hudson now, actually.”

“Oh,” Balrigard choked out. “Congratulations.”

“May I come in?” She didn’t wait for Balrigard. She knew he couldn’t say no. Helena Hudson stepped on by him and walked in, flipping on a light switch as she passed it by. She eyed the living room with a small, thin-lipped pout. “I see nothing has changed.”

Balrigard shut and locked the front door before following her into the living room. “The magazines are new.”

Helena picked one up from the coffee table. She began thumbing through it, but Balrigard knew she wasn’t reading it. Her eyes remained stationary, focused on a point somewhere beyond the page in front of her. “How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Good.”

“You look a little grey. When did you last eat?”

“A few hours ago.”

“Don’t lie to me, Balrigard,” Helena sighed. She set the magazine down. “Tell me what happened the other night.”

Balrigard hung his head and sank back onto the couch. “Did you speak with Mr. Haines?”

“I spoke with his supervisor. Mr. Haines hasn’t been to work, on account of his recovering from a dosage of pyren.”

Balrigard laced his fingers together upon his lap and stared at the carpet.  _ No sense avoiding it.  _ “Am I… going to be killed?”

Helena blinked, and then she laughed, a shrill, awful sound. Even when Vesper was being an ass, his laugh never came across as cruel. Helena’s laugh felt like a threat. 

“Kill you?” Helena echoed. “For killing two drug dealers? No, I don’t think so.”

Balrigard sighed, breathing out the fear that had been building up for days. “Then why are you here?”

“Because I heard you swallowed some weird blood, and I want to make sure it hasn’t had any repercussions on your health.”

_ Ah. Making sure I still have value, then.  _ “I took care of it, and I’m fine,” Balrigard insisted, irritated with her now instead of afraid. “You can leave.”

“Don’t be short with me, Balrigard. I’m just doing my job. This will go quickly if you cooperate.” She sat in his armchair and set the black case down on the coffee table. She opened it, and Balrigard wilted at the sight of three, large, empty syringes. “Now, about your appetite. You’ve stuck to the supply given to you by the facility, correct? No animals? No people, besides the incident a few days ago?”

“No,” Balrigard said quietly. “Just what your people have given me.”

“And you haven’t felt the need to seek out another source?”

_ The need to?  _ “No.”  _ The desire to?  _ He pressed his fingers into the velvet beneath him, working up a new, but familiar scent from the sofa. “No, I haven’t.”

***

The next night, he finally went outside to tend to his garden. He waited until the sun set to don his preferred sunhat and shades, and a pair of denim overalls over a long-sleeved flannel. He pulled on some floral-print gardening gloves as he knelt beside the flowerbed, still warm from the day’s light. He inhaled deeply as he worked pulling weeds, savoring the comforting smell of rich, moist earth mixed with daylilies, achillea, peonies, lavender, laced monach, roses, sage, and lamb’s ear.  _ I should ask Martha to send me another picture of them during the afternoon,  _ he thought as he gently cupped the withering petals of a daylily. 

An engine slowed as it approached his house, and Balrigard leapt to his feet as tires ground into the gravel driveway.  _ Helena, again? _ He held his weeder like a knife and squinted against the glare of headlights; if his heart still beat normally, it would be racing. Instead it remained sluggish, unnoticeable to any but his own kind or pricey medical equipment.

The driver rolled down their window and leaned out. “Hello, Henri!”

Balrigard dropped the weeder. “ _ Vesper? _ ”

Vesper killed the engine and along with it the headlights, allowing Balrigard to see him as he stepped out of his car into the driveway. He slammed the door behind him and Balrigard flinched as his apprehension shattered. “Architect, cobbler, seamster, and now a farmer? Is there anything you can’t do?” Vesper chuckled as he approached.

“This is not a farm,” Balrigard said, dumfounded. “What are you doing here?”

“No wonder why you and Artemis got along so swimmingly. Neither of you can give a proper greeting,” Vesper said, rolling his eyes. “Here.” He held out a lump of fabric.

Balrigard removed his gloves and tucked them under his arm before hesitantly taking the fabric. He unraveled the bundle and frowned down at the mess of wrinkles. “My shirt.”

“I washed it too, so you don’t have to worry about how  _ awful  _ I smell,” Vesper said with narrowed eyes and a tight smile.

Balrigard folded the shirt neatly. “I would have been fine if you kept it.” Washing it hadn’t done any good. He could still smell Vesper in the fabric as he smoothed his hand over the faded lettering.

“Ha! It didn’t fit me very well.”

Balrigard looked Vesper over from toe to head. The same leather boots, purposefully worn jeans, and a tucked in, well-fitting, button down with a print. “What’s that on your shirt?”

Vesper tried to fix a sloppily rolled edge of a short sleeve. “They’re cats. Like it?”

Balrigard blinked. “Are they wearing bow ties?”

“Yeah.”

Balrigard gave a stiff nod, resisting the urge to fix the sleeve. Yes, he liked it. 

“So, how’ve you been?” Vesper asked, sliding his hands into his pockets and rocking back and forth on his heels.

“I’ve been… well,” he said. Helena didn’t send her team to arrest him for killing two people, so it felt something like the truth. “And yourself?”

“Better. Didn’t get fired!”

“That’s good.”

“I’m actually on the job again tonight.”

“Are you now?” Balrigard asked, eyeing him warily. Vesper’s cheshire grin unnerved him. “Going to try to get yourself killed again?”

“Not if I can help it. No, I’m going to meet a contact downtown to discuss this.” He slid a hand out of his pocket and opened his palm to reveal a small vial full of thick, black liquid.

Balrigard felt his stomach heave; he could almost taste it. “Get that away from me.”

“Ha, sorry.” Vesper pocketed the monster’s blood. “But, on the subject of my contact… I was wondering if you might be willing to lend a hand.”

Balrigard laughed. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

Balrigard laughed louder.

“I’ve already had it cleared!” Vesper held up his hands in a display of innocence. “We can pay you, too.”

“One near-death experience is enough for me, thank you.”

“It won’t be dangerous, I promise.”

Balrigard sneered. “That’s what you said about the Morel.”

“I said it wasn’t dangerous, but I didn’t  _ promise  _ it. This time it’s a very public, supervised location.”

Balrigard rolled his eyes and stooped to pick up his weeder. “I’m busy,” he said as he turned back to his garden.

Vesper scrambled around him, blocking his path. “ _ Please?  _ I can’t get into this place without your help.”

Balrigard stepped around him and knelt in front of a cluster of weeds. He started pulling on his gloves as he said, “You just told me the place is public.”

“Public for  _ you. _ ”

Balrigard flinched and looked over his shoulder. “You mean, public for vampires?”

Vesper smiled guiltily. “And their friends.”

Balrigard groaned and turned back to his garden. “You’re a paranormal investigator… law enforcer… whatever. You’ve got to know other vampires.”

“You’re two-hundred and twenty-four years old. You’re the only vampire I know who will be admitted without question, and I really need them to not ask questions.”

Balrigard leaned forward and pressed his fists against the earth, clenching his teeth. “What is this place?” he ground out, more frustrated with himself for entertaining this conversation that he was with Vesper for pressing it.

“A club!” Vesper bent down, hands resting on his knees, so Balrigard could see his jovial, definitely-not-bored expression. “The opposite of boring.”

“What  _ kind  _ of club.”

“A… feeder bar.”

“What the hell is a  _ feeder  _ bar?” Balrigard asked, though he dreaded to think he knew the answer already.

“A feeder bar, you know? The Blood Bank?” Balrigard could hear Vesper’s frown in his voice. “You’ve never been. Oh. Well, that’s comforting to know, actually. It’s, uh, where people go to let vampires… well… you know. Feed on them.”

Balrigard resumed pulling weeds with vigor. “Why would they do that?”  _ And why would the vampires?  _ But then, he supposed not all vampires were centuries old and under strict dietary regulations to preserve the integrity of their venom and blood.

“Becausssssse… some people like how it feels? The, er, venom. It causes numbness, gives a bit of a high.”

Balrigard tried to keep his breathing even, and glanced up at him. At the sight of Vesper’s reddened face, he quickly looked away. “Speaking from experience?”

“Absolutely not!” Vesper laughed, mortified. “Not really my thing.”

Balrigard didn’t know why that stung, and he pulled another weed. “But you want me to take you to this club.”

“So I can speak to the owner, yes.”

“How much?”

“Excuse me?”

Balrigard sat back on his heels and tossed his weeder into the dirt. “How much will your boss pay me?”

Vesper made a hesitant, hopeful smile. “Twenty-five hundred.”

Balrigard pretended to consider it and then said, “Thirty.”

“Three thousand?” Vesper sputtered, smile fading. It returned just as quickly, savage and stronger than before. “Done.”

_ I was joking,  _ Balrigard thought. He looked at the garden he’d neglected for nearly a week.  _ It’ll be here tomorrow, though. And the next day, and the next. Same as you.  _ He started going out with Artemis to end the monotony of it all.  _ This is what you wanted, isn’t it?  _ Balrigard stood up and removed his gloves so he could extend a hand to Vesper. “Done.”

Vesper glanced down at Balrigard’s hand, grinning still. “Oh, you’re cool with handshakes, now?”

Balrigard raised an eyebrow. “I’m  _ cool  _ with handshakes, yes.” At least, he was now that the memory of Vesper’s blood going down his shower drain wasn’t as fresh in his mind. 

Vesper practically buzzed with excitement. “Alright then! It’s a deal!” He took Balrigard’s hand in both of his and shook it firmly. Balrigard made a concentrated effort not to jerk his hand away when he felt Vesper’s pulse. “Let’s go!”

Balrigard went to sit in Vesper’s car, but Vesper ran up beside him, waving his arms. “Uh-uh, no way. I  _ know _ my sister bought you an outfit. Go and put that on.”

“I thought you said they would let me in without question,” Balrigard said as Vesper slammed the passenger door shut. 

“If you follow the dress code, they will.”

“What’s the dress code?”

“Not a farmer.”

_ Ass. _

Balrigard took his time getting changed, hoping it would annoy Vesper. It worked. By the time he finally slid into the passenger seat, Vesper’s excitement had morphed into agitation. He tapped his foot on the gas and drummed his hands on the steering wheel, and Balrigard could hear him grinding his teeth.

“Oh God, it’s worse,” Vesper groaned when he realized what Balrigard was wearing.

“What? My jacket was ruined, and this is a good sweater,” Balrigard huffed, tugging a multi-colored sleeve down to cover his wrist. “I’ve had it for years.”

“I can see that. And-- Are your pants corduroy? Jesus. Please, at least ditch the hat and sunglasses. It’s midnight for Pete’s sake!”

Balrigard sighed and reluctantly removed his sunhat. “The sunglasses stay until we reach the club. The headlights give me a headache.”

“Fine.” Vesper leaned over and pressed a button on a stereo more modern than the car, then cranked a knob to the right. 

“Ugh!” Balrigard snarled and covered his ears as a sound similar to Artemis’s ringtone assaulted him. “What is that racket?!”

“It’s music,” Vesper said, looking pleased with himself as he backed out of Balrigard’s driveway. “You never heard rock and roll before?”

Balrigard bared his teeth. He had, and he promptly changed the channel on his television when it played. “Awful is what it is.”

“Thanks, gramps. Or I guess… great, great, great, great gramps? Give or take a great.”

Balrigard scowled at him. “You’re insufferable.”

“Only to the extent of three thousand dollars, apparently!”

“I should have made it five.”

Vesper turned the volume higher, and Balrigard felt the ‘music’ pounding in his chest. It almost felt like a heartbeat.


	7. Chapter Six - Vesper

Vesper stopped in front of a nondescript, alleyway door and took a deep breath.  _ Hopefully this visit goes better than the last one.  _ He looked back at a very reluctant Balrigard. “Having second thoughts, bud?”

“Try eighth or ninth,” Balrigard said miserably. He eyed each person that passed them by with trepidation and bewilderment. “It’s so late; why are all these people still outside?”

“They’re having a good time!”

Balrigard wrinkled his nose and shuffled a few inches away from a questionable puddle. “If you say so.”

Vesper rolled his eyes and stepped away from the door. “Come back over here,” he insisted, and amazingly Balrigard followed without question or argument. He lead Balrigard a few yards away, and positioned him up against a brick wall. Balrigard stared down at him, wide-eyed, and Vesper scoffed. “Pep talk. We won’t be here long, and then you can use your money to buy all the Easter-egg windbreakers your heart desires. This isn’t my idea of an enjoyable evening, either, but right now I  _ really _ need you to look like you want to be here, okay?”

Balrigard gave a hesitant laugh.  _ That’s better,  _ Vesper thought, smiling. “I got the impression you enjoyed your line of work,” Balrigard said through a forced smile.

“Oh, I love my work. I mean I’m more of a movie-you-can-talk-during-first-date kinda guy.” He absent-mindedly reached out to remove Balrigard’s sunglasses. “Like a drive-in. Or there’s this one theatre that has quote-along nights with themed drinks and-”

“Vesper?”

Vesper’s hands flew back to his sides. “You said you’d ditch the shades once-”

“Is this a date?” Balrigard asked quietly.

“Oh! W-what? No, of course not!” Vesper stammered nervously. Balrigard turned his head to stare at the ground, and Vesper found himself panicking. “I mean-! That’s just what we want the bouncer to think, or he’d never let me in! Haha!”

Balrigard silently nodded his head and removed his sunglasses. He held them out to Vesper. “Alright.”

Vesper’s heart pounded in his ears, and his hands remained frozen at his side.  _ He’s embarrassed.  _ “O-or we could just be going as good friends, if you’d rather. I wasn’t trying to assume anything. It doesn’t really matter, haha! Whatever gets us in!” 

Balrigard pulled his sunglasses back and hooked one of the temples in his pants pocket. His expression became stony, and Vesper couldn’t get a read on him. _Is he angry? Disappointed?_ _Damn it, Vesper. Why can’t you just shut up? _

“Doesn’t matter,” Balrigard repeated. He ran his fingers through his curls, adjusted the neckline of his sweater, pulled his sleeves down, and then clapped a hand onto Vesper’s shoulder. “Let’s go with a date.” Vesper’s heart skipped a beat. Then Balrigard stepped around Vesper, crossed the alley, and rapped his knuckles on the club door.

Vesper watched him, uncharacteristically speechless for all of three seconds, before rushing to his side. “Here.” He stood on tiptoes to reach over Balrigard’s shoulder and drum out a patterned knock on the door. “They change the knock every week, so you’ve got to-”

The door swung open, bathing the two of them in a crimson glow and pulsing music. Balrigard stumbled back, blinking against the heavy beat and strobe lights like a startled animal.  _ Should’ve warned him,  _ Vesper thought uselessly. 

A heavily-tattooed man slightly taller than Vesper stood blocking their way into the club. He wore a tight-fitting, black tank with a heartline embroidered across the chest in shiny, crimson thread. He swept his gaze from Balrigard to Vesper, who hadn’t retreated from the doorway. A look of recognition crossed the man’s features and he scowled. “ _ You _ .”

“Hello, Thomas!” Vesper chimed.

Thomas’s expression worsened, if that was even possible. “What are you doin-”

Vesper found himself swept aside as Balrigard stepped forward.

“Thomas, was it?” Balrigard asked cooly, tilting his chin up to look down at him. Vesper’s mouth went dry. He didn’t know how Balrigard was managing to look intimidating in a rainbow sweater, but he was doing it. 

Thomas’s gaze lingered on Vesper for one more hateful moment before snapping up to Balrigard. “And who the hell are y--” Thomas began, and froze. His nostrils flared, and the loathsome expression Vesper had grown accustomed to seeing on Thomas’s face vanished. “Oh shit.”

Balrigard raised an eyebrow. “Oh shit, indeed.”

Thomas retreated a step. “You, uh, um.” He looked at Vesper desperately. “Are you here with  _ him? _ ” Vesper wasn’t sure who Thomas was addressing, but figured it would be more effective to let Balrigard continue to do the talking. He wondered if they knew each other; Thomas looked absolutely terrified.

“I am,” Balrigard said. “That’s not a problem, is it?”

“Heh,” Thomas breathed. He ran his tongue across his teeth and looked up at Balrigard without raising his head, shoulders hunched submissively. “He’s banned from this establishment, unfortunately.”

Balrigard looked down at Vesper, feigning disinterest. “Is he now? For what reason?”

“Disturbing the, uh, peace.” 

Vesper grinned up at Balrigard, every bit the cat who got the canary. “That was for business,” Vesper finally spoke up, returning his attention to Thomas, who met his gaze gratefully. Balrigard was playing his part perfectly, and so Vesper couldn’t help but to reach out and take his hand in his, solidifying the ruse. “This is for pleasure.”

Vesper saw Balrigard’s stone face crack, his eyes widening in shock, and Vesper bit back the urge to laugh at him. He gave Balrigard’s hand a light squeeze.  _ Easy, now.  _ Thankfully, Thomas was far too eager to avoid Balrigard’s gaze to notice the slip up.

“Well, I, uh…” Thomas sputtered, just as surprised as Balrigard. “I’m not supposed to, I mean…” Hesitantly, he looked up at Balrigard, who stood recovered and stone faced once more. “I guess if you swear to keep him out of trouble, I could allow it.”

Balrigard shrugged, and gave Vesper an enticing smile. It took all of Vesper’s training not to break character and blush up at the vampire.  _ Easy, now,  _ he thought again, this time for his own benefit. “If you know Vesper as well as I do, then you know that’s impossible. But I’ll  _ try _ .”

Thomas laughed, dead inside. “Cool.”

“Cool,” Vesper agreed as he stepped inside, unable to contain the thrill of watching Thomas crumble under the knowledge that he couldn’t stop them. Still holding Balrigard’s hand, he pulled the vampire into the pulsing crowd, his victorious laugh swallowed by the pounding music.

“You wicked bastard!” Vesper cackled as he dragged Balrigard to the bar. He couldn’t help but shout over the music, though Balrigard could likely hear him just fine. “Usually werewolves don’t give a damn about vampires, but he looked like he’d seen a ghost! What’d you ever do to that guy?!” Balrigard said something in response. “What?!”

Balrigard rolled his eyes and leaned down. Vesper shivered as he felt Balrigard’s frigid breath tickling his ear. “I said, he’s young, and he knows that I’m not.”

“How can he tell?” Vesper knew werewolves like Thomas had incredible senses of smell, even better than a vampire. It’s why the Blood Bank employed them as Heart Monitors. They could tell by scent alone when a human bled too much, or when pleasure turned to fear. More importantly, they made sure no one tried to bleed a vampire. Venom was ultimately harmless, and wore off with time, but a person under the influence of venom couldn’t fight off the virus carried in a vampire’s blood: it either killed them, or turned them into a vampire, too. Vesper wasn’t aware of a scent difference between a young vampire or an old one, however. 

The tip of Balrigard’s nose pressed into Vesper’s hair above his ear. “Young vampires have a putrid odor to them, like an infected wound. I smell like death.” 

Vesper shivered again, but not from the cold. Distantly, he wondered what would happen if he turned his face to meet Balrigard’s. “I don’t think you do.” Honestly, Balrigard didn’t smell like much of anything right now, but Vesper still remembered what he’d picked up while on pyren. Death wasn’t one of them.

Balrigard smiled and pat Vesper on the shoulder as if he were a child saying something hilariously ignorant. Vesper felt his face heat.

“So, who is your contact?” Balrigard asked as Vesper slid into an open seat at the bar. Vesper looked to his left and right, scanning for a familiar face behind the counter and coming up empty. Instead, his eyes locked on a couple a few seats down. A blonde vampire leaned in close to her companion at the bar and angled her head down towards his ear, whispering something that made him shiver and smile. Vesper couldn’t help but stare, and he watched as the woman’s lips slid lower, and parted to reveal extended fangs. He quickly averted his gaze before she bit down, but he felt Balrigard tense beside him. He’d been watching, too.

“She’ll find us soon enough, I’m sure,” Vesper said, staring down at the bar in front of him. “Give Thomas a few minutes to rat me out.” If not Thomas, then any one of the other thirty or so other Heart Monitors would’ve sniffed him out by now and gone to warn their mistress.

Someone tapped the counter in front of Vesper, and he looked up at a woman with black, corkscrew curls. “What’re you having?” Vesper saw her mouth forming the words rather than heard her. He shook his head rapidly. The last thing he wanted was to get drunk in a feeder bar. 

The woman shrugged and looked to Balrigard next. “How about you?” She paused, regarding him strangely, and Vesper wondered if she was realizing Balrigard’s status as an old-ass vampire, too. But then she perked up and excitedly pointed across the counter at him. “Is that a _ Coogi _ ?!”  _ A what?  _

Balrigard shared Vesper’s confusion, and stared down at his sweater as if noticing it for the first time. “I’ve had this for years.”

That only seemed to thrill the woman more. “I’m so jealous!” she shouted over the music. “I saw one in a trade-in a few months ago but they wanted an arm and a leg for it.” She reached under the counter for a glass and placed it on the counter in front of Balrigard. “Thirsty? Or,” she paused, and nonchalantly swept her hair back over her shoulder. “Do you prefer it from the tap?” 

Balrigard looked bewildered. “I can’t drink-”

“She’s talking about  _ blood,  _ buddy,” Vesper said, surprised by how cross he sounded.  _ What do I care? It’d probably be good for him.  _

“Oh,” Balrigard mouthed. “So, from the tap is…” He looked to her neck. “Oh.  _ Oh. _ ”

“First time here?” the woman laughed. 

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean-” Balrigard stumbled over his words. “Yes, my first time. No, I’m not, ahh,  _ thirsty. _ ” He looked down at Vesper as if begging for help. “But, uh, thank you?”

“Sure thing, man,” the woman said. “Just let me know if you change your mind.” She put the glass back under the counter and then moved on to the next customer.

Balrigard leaned towards Vesper and breathed against his ear again, making Vesper jump.

“Shi-, sorry,” Vesper heaved. “What were you saying?”

Balrigard regarded him quizzically before leaning in again. “That was a first.”

Vesper smiled bitterly. “What, you mean you’ve never had someone offer their neck to you before?”

“Not so… casually,” Balrigard admitted. “In my day, people tended to be a little more, uhm… Well,  _ unwilling _ .”

“What rock have you been under?” Vesper asked, and then shook his head as he realized he knew precisely what kind of rock Balrigard lived under.  _ The kind that has him still dressing like it’s the eighties.  _ Another thought came to mind, and Vesper couldn’t help but ask, “When’s the last time you fed off of a person? Not counting last week.” That monster hardly qualified as a ‘person’ as far as Vesper was concerned.

Balrigard was silent for long enough that Vesper assumed he didn’t intend to answer; it was probably a stupidly rude question to ask. Then he spoke, and Vesper could barely hear him over the music despite their proximity to one another. “The last world war.”

Vesper turned his head to look up at Balrigard, their faces only a few inches apart. Balrigard looked grim, his gaze distant, and Vesper felt guilty for asking such a careless question. Cautiously, Vesper raised a hand, intending to place it on Balrigard’s arm and draw him back to the present.

“There you are, Haines,” a woman’s voice interrupted.

Vesper ignored her for a moment, searching Balrigard’s eyes as if he might see in them whatever memory was making Balrigard so miserable. “Hey, bud. You oka-?”

The woman gasped. “Is that…  _ Balrigard _ ? Is that you?”

Balrigard snapped back to reality, but the haunted look remained, as if he’d come out of a nightmare only to realize it had followed him into the waking world. He straightened and turned from Vesper to face the woman. “Mary?”

Mary wore her thick mane of vibrant-red hair, black in the club lighting, up in a tight knot that accentuated the sharp angles of her face. Like Thomas, her normally unfriendly expression transformed into one of shock in Balrigard’s presence. She didn’t look afraid, though. Rather, the much shorter woman looked up at Balrigard with something akin to reverence. Balrigard, on the other hand, looked haunted.  _ Oh God,  _ Vesper thought with sudden dread.  _ Don’t let them be exes.  _

Mary said something, but didn’t bother with raising her voice to be heard over the music. Balrigard replied, even quieter, and Vesper felt his dread turn to frustration. Vesper stood up and tugged on Balrigard’s sleeve, then pointed at his ear. He looked to Mary next. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”  _ Somewhere I can hear?  _

Mary frowned and said something else to Balrigard. Vesper thought he caught the meaning.  _ Are you with him?  _ Balrigard placed a cool hand on Vesper’s shoulder and nodded. It helped to ease Vesper’s jealousy a bit.  _ Jealousy? Nah.  _

Mary chewed on her lip, looking from Balrigard to Vesper and back again. “Follow me,” she mouthed, and disappeared into the crowd. Vesper lost her in it immediately, but Balrigard kept his hand on Vesper’s shoulder and guided him forward with confidence.

They climbed a spiral staircase to an upper level where the music didn’t feel as deafening. Patrons lounged on black vinyl furniture, and Vesper remembered his first visit where he realized the vinyl must’ve made for easy cleanup. A row of black doors lead to rooms with similar sanitary precautions. A Heart Monitor loomed outside each one.

Mary lingered by a heavy, red door and motioned them inside before following and locking the door behind her. “Better?”

“Much,” Vesper said. His ears felt fuzzy in the near silence, though he could still feel the music making the floor vibrate beneath his feet. He cut right to the chase, but not the one he’d originally come here for. Instead he said, somewhat bitterly, “So, how do you two know each other?”

Balrigard looked like he was racking his brain for one of those evasive answers Artemis often complained to Vesper about while the two were still dating. Before Balrigard could provide one, Mary simply shrugged and said, “He sired me.”


	8. Chapter Seven - Balrigard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the delay in updating. I was out of state for a little over a week.  
I wanted to get this new chapter up as quickly as possible, so I haven't read over it yet for typos/errors/clarity/etc. so hopefully it's okay!

Balrigard's relief over being free of the deafening music, blinding lights, and awful, wonderful smells crumbled when Mary answered. 

"He  _ what?!"  _ Vesper blurted. He'd been about to sink down into a chair but now sprang back to his feet and looked to Balrigard with... what? Disgust? Horror? Suspicion? Balrigard couldn't bring himself to meet Vesper's gaze directly to find out.

"Don't worry. He did it legally. Sort of," Mary laughed softly, her voice as crisp and pure as Balrigard remembered. In her loose, white, flowing, sun dress, she would have looked radiant if not for her deathly pallor. She'd covered the bruises beneath her eyes with powder and willed color back into her cheeks with rouge, but the fangs peeking out from beneath her ruby-painted lips left no doubt as to what she was.

"He sired a lot of people, actually," Mary went on.

Balrigard couldn't bear it. He stepped forward and crossed the room in an instant. Vesper jumped to see Balrigard suddenly appear looming over Mary, teeth bared with a snarl, hands fisted at his side with barely restrained rage. " _ Enough. _ " 

He'd been able to intimidate the werewolf, but Mary knew him too well to be cowed. She parted her lips in a brilliantly white smile, a harmless gesture from afar but a threatening display of her own fangs up close. "You still have that short temper, I see. Good." She patted his cheek, manicured nails lightly scratching. "It means you're still alive in there."

Balrigard scowled and pushed her away. "I haven't sired anyone. Not directly," he spat as he looked over his shoulder at Vesper. "My venom and blood was used  _ without my knowledge _ to enhance soldiers during the last world war."

"You enhanced us, alright," Mary cooed, and swept past Balrigard towards a meticulously organized, modern, white desk. "The ones who didn't die or go mad, that is." She opened a cabinet beneath the desk and produced a tall, skinny decanter full of crimson. Balrigard's stomach lurched, and his mouth started watering again.  _ I hate this club. _ The smell coming from behind the black doors upstairs was bad enough, but all of this blood was nearly unbearable. 

Vesper finally sat down, his fingers digging into the arms of the chair. "So you were a soldier?" he asked Mary, avoiding looking at Balrigard entirely.  _ Good.  _ Balrigard wanted to disappear, and Vesper ignoring him was a step in the right direction.

"A nurse, actually," Mary said as she poured blood into a stemless wine glass. She held it out ot Balrigard. "Here."

"No," Balrigard said stiffly.

"You haven't eaten in over a week," Mary smirked, gloating over how easy it was to tell. "I can't have you going back downstairs and losing control on my customers."

"I don't  _ lose control. _ Not like that."

Mary raised a thin eyebrow and smiled knowingly. Balrigard wanted to throw either her or Vesper out of the room before she could contradict him, but she only said, "Is that so?" She pushed the glass into Balrigard's hand. "It's fresh. Take it."

"You were a nurse," Vesper interrupted in an attempt to get his interrogation back on track. "What happened?"

Mary poured her own glass, clinked it against Balrigard's, and then took a deep, exaggerated swig. She teased Balrigard by allowing a bead of crimson to trail down her chin, which Balrigard watched hungrily. She then swiped it away with the tip of her tongue and winked at him. "A soldier in my care turned and mauled me. I would have died, but we still had a few viles of the enhancement serum on hand, so I took it. It turned me, too." She crossed the room and took the chair next to Vesper, leaving Balrigard standing awkwardly by the desk. "Every vial in that batch came from your boyfriend over there."

"Boyfriend?" Vesper and Balrigard said as one. Vesper finally looked back at Balrigard, and Balrigard saw his cheeks were flushed red. The glass of blood in Balrigard's hand no longer seemed appetizing in the slightest. He forced himself to look away.

Mary eyed them both suspiciously, then cursed under her breath.  _ "Pleasure, not business," _ she said, likely repeating Thomas's report. "That was a load of crap, wasn't it?" She jabbed an accusatory finger into Vesper's shoulder. "You used him to get in here."

"Maybe," Vesper said, doing a much better job at recovering from his flustered state than Balrigard. He settled back against his chair and drummed his fingers on the arms.

"Come to try to shut me down again?" she said, her eyes narrowing to a sliver of emerald. "My customers are all consenting adults."

"My Jane Doe didn't consent to dying, Mary," Vesper said lowly, meeting her glare with one of his own.

Balrigard frowned down at the glass in his hands and quietly placed it on Mary's desk behind a plastic succulent. 

"That's why I took Thomas's advice and hired more dogs," Mary said with a dismissive wave. "I haven't had any incidents since then."

Vesper pulled out his phone while Mary boasted. He swiped through it a few times before holding the screen upright for her to see. "So these  _ five  _ missing vampires aren't incidents?"

Mary stiffened, her upper lip twitching to expose her fangs. "They weren't abducted from my club. I'm not responsible for what happens after people leave."

Vesper resumed scrolling through his phone. "So it's just a coincidence that all five of them were instructed to meet someone, the  _ same  _ someone, here, and then vanished?"

Balrigard blinked stupidly at Vesper. "Vampires are being kidnapped?"

Vesper looked at him incredulously. "Don't you watch the news?"

Balrigard scoffed and opened his mouth to answer, but stopped when he realized how foolish his reasoning was. The faces changed throughout history, but the corruption and conflict remained the same. After two hundred years, he was tired of it, but it probably would have been good to know that vampires like him were being abducted.  _ I keep a key under a mat on my front porch, for God's sake.  _ He felt like an idiot, and Vesper's condescending stare wasn't helping.

"I would've thought you'd care about someone using your club to lure  _ your customers  _ to their deaths," Vesper went on, turning his attention back to Mary.

"They're  _ missing, _ " Mary sneered. "Not dead."

Vesper pulled the glass vial from his pocket and held it out to her. 

" _ Eugh! _ " Mary gagged, covering her nose and leaning away from Vesper. "What  _ is  _ that?"

Balrigard had barely noticed the smell of it given the distraction of the club and Vesper's own stench, but now that the vile was out in the open, he couldn't  _ not  _ notice it. He tasted bile in his throat and quickly mirrored Mary, burying his nose into the crook of his rainbow sleeve.

"A highly altered strain of the virus carried in the blood of two of those 'missing' vampires. We recovered their bodies in a lab bust three days ago, along with a deceased werewolf and two shape shifters. They contributed to this little mixture, too."

_ Three days ago?  _ "Helena said you were out sick from the pyren," Balrigard interrupted. He felt wounded for being left out of the loop, even though there wasn't any logical reason why Vesper should have told him.

Vesper eyed him somewhat coldly, but continued speaking to Mary. "Someone is trying to make a new 'enhancement' serum, it seems, and so far the results have been disastrous. Balrigard and I were attacked by someone under the influence of the serum five nights ago."

Mary's eyes widened as she turned her head to look at Balrigard. "Is that true?" 

Balrigard shrugged helplessly. "I guess so? I mean, we were definitely attacked, but I didn't know what that stuff-," he gestured at the black vile, "was. Except that it made the man's blood foul, and turned him into something grotesque. It nearly killed us."  _ Killed  _ me,  _ a two-hundred year old vampire.  _ That counted for something.

"A vampire's blood is already foul," Mary pouted, seemingly reluctant to accept the danger being posed. Balrigard didn't blame her; the first enhancement serum ruined thousands of lives, hers included.

Balrigard shook his head. "This was worse, Mary. I should know; I ingested plenty of it when I killed the thing. I was sick for days."

"So that's why you're not eating," Mary sighed. Balrigard gladly let her believe that. He didn't want to acknowledge the fact that it might actually have something to do with the man sitting next to her making everything else smell stale.

"So?" Vesper urged, the vial in one hand and his phone in the other. The screen displayed the shriveled husk of the vampire he and Balrigard found that first night. "Are you going to tell me what you know?"

Mary pushed Vesper's hands away. "No. I want nothing to do with this."

"Why you-!" Vesper growled, shoving the vial back into his pocket and standing up. "So you're just going to let this person continue to use the Blood Bank as a hunting ground?"

"No!" Mary snarled, rising to meet him. She was shorter than Vesper, but that didn't matter. She could kill him in an instant. Balrigard tensed, dreading the possibility that he might have to step in between them. Fresh and fed as she was, Mary could probably kill him, too.

"I'm taking care of things on my end," she went on. "Maybe you should take better care of things on yours. No one here is being drugged, or knocked out, or  _ killed.  _ My staff is on high-alert for anything suspicious, but I'm not about to chase off two-thirds of my clientele by questioning each one."

"You're an idiot," Vesper laughed bitterly. "People are  _ dying. _ "

"People die every day," Mary said. "By the thousands. I've seen it first hand; it's what people  do ."

"Not vampires," Balrigard spoke up. He took a cautious step towards Mary, his thumbs hooked in his pockets. "Not us, Mary."

"Wake up, Balrigard," she snapped, and he froze. "And don't say  us,  like you haven't spent the last forty years locked up in your house playing the part of Helena's convenient, little, vampirism  _ dispensary _ day in and day out." She practically spat the words, and Balrigard flinched with each one as if she'd struck him. " _ My kind _ have been getting slaughtered ever since the army made us."

"Dispensary?" Balrigard echoed, still stuck on the insult. 

"Forget it, Balrigard," Vesper ground out. "She's not going to tell us anything." He waved for Balrigard to follow him as he strode towards the door. "See you soon with a warrant, Mary."

"Good luck with that," Mary chimed after him. Then to Balrigard she said cooly, "Going to go crawl back into your hole now?"

Balrigard motioned for Vesper to go on ahead. "Mary," he pleaded. "You're being unfair."

Vesper slammed the door shut behind him.

" _ I'm  _ being unfair?" Mary uttered with a ghost of a laugh. "Tell me, Barligard. Why  _ are _ you running around with that asshole? Does Helena have something to do with this?"

Balrigard felt anger prickle under his skin. "I don't owe you an explanation."

Mary's eyes narrowed as her ruby lips pulled into a smile as sharp as a knife's edge. "You took my life, Balrigard. You owe me everything."

"I'm leaving." He started walking towards the door to show he meant it, though he wasn't sure he did. 

Mary swept his full glass from her desk and pursued him. "Of course you are. Do me a favor and sample some of my stock downstairs, hmm? Whatever Helena is giving you isn't enough. You need something  _ fresh. _ " She pushed the glass of blood back into his hands, seemingly hopeful that Vesper's absence might make him more honest about his hunger.

"Mary," he sighed.

The briefest flicker of offense crossed her features, but then her smile returned twice as devious along with a raised, well-groomed eyebrow. The cat wasn't done playing with her mouse. "Vesper, then?" Balrigard wasn't sure what face he made, but whatever it was, Mary laughed. "My  _ God _ ! I see what's going on here. This isn't Helena's work at all, is it? You're fixated on him."

" _ Mary, _ " Balrigard said again, and felt his fangs lengthening. It took all of his self control not to crush the wine-glass in his fist; he didn't have the tools on hand to get out the stain it would likely leave on his sweater.

"What does he smell like to you, hmm? Or,  oh, have you tried him yet? Isadora will  _ love  _ to hear about this. I saw her last week, you know."

Balrigard's last thread of patience snapped. The prickle of his anger turned into a swell, red hot and all consuming. He wanted to lunge at her, bite her, tear her apart. He wanted to copy Vesper and storm out, slam the door so hard it warped the hinges. Both were very much doable, but what he wanted more than either was to simply get the hell out of there. He would have to forgo a violent outburst and settle instead for something a little more petty. 

He held out the wine glass, offering it as calmly as he could. She remained smiling as she reached for it, victorious. However, just before her delicate fingers could close around the rim of the glass, Balrigard bent his wrist and upended the contents onto the floor. Bright red poured down onto what was, up until then, pristine, white carpet, soaking into the fibres and staining them instantly. 

"What the  _ fuck,  _ Bal!" Mary cursed as she leapt back to avoid the splatter of blood. Some of it spattered onto Balrigard's shoes, too, but it was for a good cause. "You--you ruined my rug! How the _ hell _ am I supposed to get that out?!" Balrigard could have told her. Instead, he gently set the glass down and left her office without another word. More curses followed him, but the pounding music outside her door swallowed every last word.

Balrigard found Vesper downstairs at the edge of the dance floor, angrily pecking out a lengthy text on his cellphone. Balrigard sympathized with him; Mary's suggestion that he should drink from Vesper, and worse, that he was  _ fixated  _ on him, still had his frigid blood boiling. Thankfully, the God-awful music drowned out the sound of Vesper's pulse, and the abundance of blood and sweat overwhelmed his scent. So long as Balrigard ignored the angry flush creeping up the back of Vesper's neck to his ears and face, Balrigard could continue pretending that Mary's suspicions were unfounded. To achieve this, Balrigard forewent leaning forward to speak in Vesper's ear and instead tapped him on the shoulder.

" _ What? _ " Vesper snapped, looking ready to fight. Upon recognizing Balrigard, his anger crumbled to reveal bitter defeat. "Oh. Hey."

" _ Hey. _ " Balrigard's own anger began to pale in comparison to his returning discomfort. The base pounding in his chest felt less like he had heartbeat and more like he was having a panic attack. "What, uh, WHAT NOW?" 

Vesper squinted and leaned in, still having trouble hearing Balrigard despite his raised voice. "What now?"

Balrigard leaned back. "YES. SHOULD WE, UH, LEAVE?"

Vesper rolled his eyes and stepped closer, pressing his shoulder into Balrigard's chest and bringing his ear close to Balrigard's lips. "Bud, I can't hear a word you're saying."

Balrigard stared down at Vesper's profile despite every rational fiber in his being telling him to retreat.  _ You're fixated on him,  _ Mary's suggestion taunted him.  _ It doesn't feel like one, though,  _ he tried to argue.  _ Not really. _ With past fixations, there'd only been hunger. He hadn't bothered to notice how nicely their shirt fit across their broad chest, or the brightness of their wild, enraged smile in contrast to their flushed, olive-brown cheeks. It was almost enough to make him forget his fangs pressing forward.

"Should we leave?" Balrigard said into Vesper's ear, sounding strangled as he willed his fangs back into place.

"Well," Vesper drew out the 'L' on his tongue as he slipped his phone into his pocket and gave a nod toward the second-floor balcony. Balrigard's eyes followed the gesture and saw Mary standing there, bordered by two Heart Monitors, glowering down at him and Vesper.

Vesper placed a hand on Balrigard's shoulder, drawing Balrigard's gaze back so quickly Balrigard swore he felt something in his neck pop. "Don't see any reason why we should leave," Vesper said almost too loudly. "Just because Mary was a bust doesn't mean we can't still have that date."

Balrigard felt his stomach leap into his chest, much the same as it had when Vesper took his hand at the alleyway door and suggested to Thomas that this visit was for  _ pleasure.  _ "I b-beg your pardon?" Balrigard stammered.

Vesper stood on tiptoes then, bringing his face closer to Balrigard's ear, his  _ neck  _ closer to Balrigard's  _ mouth.  _ Vesper was saying something, whispering so softly that Mary could not possibly hear him over the music. "A few members of my team are on their way, hopefully with a warrant. I want to stick around until they get here. You okay pretending for just a little while longer?"

Balrigard stared wide-eyed at Vesper's neck; he needed only to dip his head forward and he could press his lips to the soft, warm flesh beneath Vesper's jaw and...  _ what? Bite him? Or? _

"Bal?"

"Y-yes," Balrigard breathed, still in a daze. "Yes, that's fine." Would Vesper stop him? He'd noticed the blush that came across Vesper's cheeks when the vampire at the bar bit her companion. Did that mean Vesper had thought about it, too?

"Great," Vesper beamed. His fingers slid from Balrigard's shoulder to pull at his hand. "Let's dance."

Balrigard nodded at the suggestion. It wasn't until Vesper stepped back, removing the temptation of his throat, that the words finally registered. "W-wait."  _ Did he say dance? _ "What? No! No, I mea-!" 

Vesper cackled like a madman and dragged him into the crowd anyway.


End file.
